


In Plain Sight

by snarkymuch



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Ianto Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: While Jack's away with the doctor, someone comes looking for him with vengeance in mind. Upon his return, he finds things have changed. Owen/Ianto friendship. Warnings: Violence, torture, abuse, language.





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Warnings:** This story will have depictions of graphic violence, torture, and naughty language.

* * *

**In Plain Sight**

**Chapter 1**

Ianto tossed the papers he was holding down onto the table, scrubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. Gwen's persistence was wearing his patience thin.

"I'm tired, Gwen. I have barely slept, none of us have, and now you think we should go investigate this." He motioned to the scattered pictures and newspaper clippings cluttering the table. They had been at this discussion for nearly an hour, and he was ready to walk out.

"Yes, I think we should. Someone, or something, is out there torturing people, Ianto, tearing them apart. We can't just ignore it. Jack wouldn't—"

"Jack isn't here, Gwen," Owen snapped. "Ianto's right. This isn't our problem."

Gwen's lips pursed. "Tosh, what about you?"

Tosh's gaze flitted around the table as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. "I think we need to keep on doing our job, especially without Jack here. It's our duty."

Owen scoffed. "Figures you would side with her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen snapped.

"Nothing." Owen shook his head. He folded his hands, resting his elbows on the table. "So, it seems we are at an impasse. Fucking delightful."

Ianto sighed. There was something off about the case Gwen wanted to investigate. Everything that was left behind at the scenes practically screamed for Torchwood's attention, and that alone was a concern. Torchwood had been around long enough to develop an impressive back catalogue of bad encounters. Something which made them very unpopular among quite a few people.

"There is something suspicious about this whole thing. It seems too much like a setup," Ianto said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gwen's brows knitted together. "But we have to—"

Ianto raised his hand, stopping her. "But, I guess we can do something. It's clear you aren't letting this go, and I guess maybe we shouldn't."

"Fucking Hell," Owen said. "So much for sticking together on something."

"Shut up, Owen," Gwen snapped. "Go on, Ianto."

"As I was saying, we can't pretend we haven't seen what's blatantly in front of us, but we should take some precautions." Ianto turned to Gwen and Tosh. "You two should stay behind and Owen and I will check out the house."

"Where do you get off making the decisions?" Owen said, irritably.

"Someone needs to act like an adult, and it's clear you can't."

Owen pushed back in his chair and made to stand, face contorted in anger.

"Oi!" Gwen shouted. "Everyone calm down! Owen, sit. Now!"

Ianto couldn't stop the smirk from tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Ianto, you too." Gwen gave him a stern look. "Wipe that smile off your face."

"I agree with Ianto," Tosh said. "It seems like the best idea."

Owen stood. "Whatever, you want to go then let's go." Owen stormed out of the boardroom.

Tosh's eyes were wide. "Well, I'll get the equipment ready." She fumbled with the papers, gathering them and placing them back into the folder.

There was a feeling in the pit of Ianto's stomach, like there was something terrible about to happen. It was the same feeling he'd had the week before the battle of Canary Wharf. He swallowed hard and stepped out of the room, following after Owen.

"Ianto." Gwen's voice came from behind him. He turned and looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks," she said.

He shook his head. "Don't thank me. I'm not doing it for you."

Owen tossed his rucksack into the back of the SUV and moved around toward the driver's side door.

"You really don't think I am going to let you drive?" Ianto raised a brow.

Owen tilted his head to the side. "Yeah, I do. Now move so we can get going. I have shit to do tonight, unlike some people." He shoved a hand into Ianto's chest, knocking him back a few inches.

Ianto wasn't in the mood to deal with the irritating Londoner today, not that he ever was really. He turned his body and drove a well-placed elbow into Owen's ribs. The doctor gasped and Ianto used the momentary distraction to pop open the door and slide into the seat.

Owen scowled and slammed his hand against the window, making Ianto jump.

"Fucking useless tosser." Owen grumbled as he walked around to the other side of the car.

Owen and Ianto hadn't been on good terms since the Abaddon incident. Owen was pissed that Ianto had shot him, and Ianto was pissed that Owen had made him.

The whole experience had highlighted just how far each man was willing to go for their own agenda, and it made them both hate each other just a little more. Working together had been nearly unbearable ever since. It was a miracle that they hadn't killed or maimed one another.

Thankfully the ride was quiet and Owen kept his thoughts to himself. It wasn't a long drive, about a half an hour.

The house they were heading for was on the outskirts of Butetown. According to the records Gwen had dug up, it had been unoccupied for nearly a decade. All the bodies that had been discovered were each found within the house at different times, even after the police had cordoned it off.

Detectives had deemed it likely the work of a serial killer, but Gwen didn't think it was. Whoever had done this had done an unnaturally good job cleaning up after themselves, and the police were unable to find any forensic evidence at the scene.

The people that had been found over the last month had all been—at one time or another—people that had crossed Torchwood's path, specifically Torchwood Three's. It was clear someone was trying to get their attention. Ianto just wondered what they were going to do with it now that they had it.

"Take a right up ahead," Owen said, glancing up from the GPS.

The house was stately and styled in a way that it stood out against the surrounding area. The pictures Gwen had supplied didn't capture it's near hypnotic grandeur. Every corner, every small nook, was decorated with ornate carvings. A person could easily get lost in the architecture.

Gathering their supplies, they approached the house. That feeling of unease was still sitting heavy in Ianto's stomach.

They ducked beneath the caution tape that cordoned off the area and walked up the cobbled path to the door.

Owen set his bag down and pulled out the scanner. He ran it over the doorway. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Ianto nodded. "Well, we should go in I suppose."

Owen grabbed the old brass handle and swung the door open. The lights were off but it was easy to see that it was just as richly done as the outside. It wasn't the kind of place one would associate with murder, let alone the torturous deaths those people had met here.

"Now what, almighty wise one?" Owen was examining a painting that hung by the door.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Might as well start here and work our way toward the back."

They each took their scanners and began checking over the rooms carefully. There was nothing. Not a thing was out of place. It was almost like they were being taunted by the house's perfection.

Eventually they came to the kitchen where the last body was found. There was only a trace of the victim's blood left, a single drop artfully placed against the white tiled floor.

"I really don't know what Gwen thinks we're going to find." Owen was opening the cabinets and poking through their contents. "Huh, that's a bit odd."

Ianto turned, frowning. "What is?"

"Well, there's no actual food in here, unless you count the seriously outdated tins of soup."

Ianto stepped around the droplet of blood and stood beside Owen, eyeing the cabinet's contents.

There was a knocking noise and they both turned.

A prickling of fear spread through Ianto. "What was that?"

Owen's hand went to his sidearm. "I don't know, PC Plod maybe?"

There was another noise, this time it was clear as to what it was. A door clicked closed somewhere nearby.

Ianto tensed, swallowing hard. "Hello?"

Footsteps echoed through the open house, getting louder as they approached.

"Fucking great. I knew this was a bad idea." Owen pointed his gun toward the open doorway to the dining room.

They both watched the dark shadows, waiting for them to shift as the footfalls drew closer.

Suddenly, the doors slammed shut and a hissing sound filled the air.

"What—" Ianto was cut off by the coughs that began to tear from his chest.

Everything grew fuzzy and gravity seemed to become impossible to battle. Ianto slumped down to the floor, unable to stop himself. Dizzily, he looked over to where Owen was moments before, only to find he too was collapsing to the floor.

The tile felt cool against Ianto's face as he lay helpless. The footsteps stopped, and Ianto blinked, coming face to face with a pair of black boots.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** This is dark. There is torture depicted.

**AN** : Feedback would be loved. Thanks and please let me know your thoughts. :)

* * *

**In Plain Sight**

**Chapter 2**

When Ianto woke, his senses were under an assault of horrible textures and putrid smells. The floor beneath him felt damp and gritty under his cheek. His face grimaced at the strong odor of mildew and what could quite possibly be urine.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear the fog from his mind. Getting up and off the floor was his first priority. He didn't want to try to put a name to the other odors that were wafting up his nose. Unfortunately though, his mind had already taken the liberty to comprise a rather horrific list of options.

He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn't see. Slowly, he rolled and pushed himself up onto his knees, a wave of dizziness immediately caused him to nearly collapse. His stomach lurched, and he closed his eyes, trying to curtail the nausea that was threatening him.

He idly wondered why criminals always felt the need to house themselves in places with abhorrent smells. What he wouldn't give for a nice hotel loving kidnapper with a penchant for bubble baths.

No longer able to stand the feeling of his hands pressed against the gritty, damp floor, he groaned and pushed himself up to sit back on his knees. The room spun a bit, but not nearly as bad as before and his stomach seemed to be settling.

Taking another breath, he realised to his complete dismay, and disgust, that he was growing accustomed to the stench. _Wonderful_.

Surveying the room, he quickly discerned that he was in fact in some kind of holding cell. The room was small and poorly lit, the only light coming from a dirtied bulb hanging from the ceiling. The walls all looked solid, no windows and only one door, which appeared rather sold with its riveted, metal face.

A faint groaning made Ianto jump and lose his balance. His hand slammed against the floor as he caught himself, the gritty texture cutting into his palm. He clambered to his feet, wiping his sore palm against his shirt.

His eyes searched the shadows of the darkened corner from where the sound was emanating. Squinting, he could see the outline of a body; Owen, he surmised from the chorus of fucks being growled.

As nice as it was to know Owen wasn't dead, it would have been nicer if their captors had housed them in separate cells. It seemed like it should be a violation of basic human rights to force someone to share a confined space with anyone as irritating as Owen.

"What the fuck?" Owen seemed to be rolling around in a puddle, and Ianto couldn't stop the smirk from tugging at mouth. "What is that fucking smell? And why the fuck did I wake up in puddle?"

Ianto stuck his hands in pockets and sighed. "We appear to have been captured. Amazingly, I was right; it was trap."

Owen stumbled to his feet, scowling at Ianto. "Really, captured you say? No shit! I'm not a fucking idiot."

"You asked."

Owen snapped his head around and his lip curled up over his teeth. "Don't start with me, Jones. As I see it, this is all your fucking fault!"

Ianto narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders, his hands coming out of his pockets and balling into fists. "I am not taking the blame for this. We all knew something like this could happen."

Owen scoffed. "We're only here because you didn't want to listen to Gwen bitch."

"Fuck off, Owen."

"You're a useless piece of shit, Ianto. I should have shot you when I had the chance."

Ianto charged forward and grabbed Owen's shirt, bodily slamming him into the concrete wall with thud. Owen's hands clawed at Ianto's face, his thumb finding purchase in Ianto's eye.

Ianto yelped and tried to turn his head away, but to do so, he had to release his grip on Owen.

Owen didn't stop though. He grabbed Ianto while he was stunned and began punching him in the stomach. Ianto started punching at the only part of Owen he could reach, his crouch. One of the blows finally landed with enough accuracy and force to send Owen toppling to the floor.

Ianto clutched at his stomach and side. His ribs and gut felt like it was on fire. For as wiry as Owen was, he could hit like a ton of bricks, not to mention how bony his knuckles were. It was like getting hit with a pointy sledgehammer.

They both stumbled to opposite corners, never letting the other out of their sight. With no watch or window to see the sky, there was no way to measure time, but it seemed like hours had already gone by.

Ianto wondered why they hadn't seen their captor yet. It seemed a bit silly to go through all the trouble of setting a trap to catch someone just to ignore them once you did. Besides, if whoever it was didn't show themselves soon, it might be too late. They might very well kill one another if left alone much longer.

"So, now what?" Owen glared at Ianto.

"Why you asking me? You wanted me dead last time I checked."

"Still do, but that's beside the point, isn't it?" Owen face was tight. "I take it your pockets were emptied as well?"

Ianto nodded sharply. "Yep."

"Well, I think we should try to get ourselves some service around here, don't you?" Owen smirked, pushing himself up against the wall to stand.

Ianto's eyebrows knitted together. "What are you planning?"

Owen smiled, his eyes looking a bit too dark. "Nothing, I just want to say hello is all."

"Owen, don't—" Ianto was cut off by Owen's hollering and banging on the door.

"Hey, fuck-heads! Why don't you stop hiding and come say hi? Come on you fucking tossers, you useless fucking—"

There was a slam from outside the room and Owen quieted, stepping back from the door. Ianto got to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the shadow of feet beneath the door.

The lock rattled, and then with a horrid creak, the door slowly swung open.

The figure in the doorway was shadowed by the light coming from the hall, but Ianto could see he was of similar size to himself.

Owen lunged forward without a moment's hesitation. Ianto didn't have time to react, he just stood there frozen, watching the scene unfold. The figure stepped forward, and then fell back as Owen landed a fist against his jaw. Suddenly, Owen cried out and collapsed in a writhing heap.

The sound of Owen's scream broke Ianto free, and he balled his fists, running at the figure.

The man chuckled as Ianto slammed his shoulder into him. The harder Ianto fought the more the man laughed. A sharp pain cut into Ianto's neck and his body went rigid with pain, and like Owen, he fell to the floor.

Once again, Ianto found himself confronted with a pair of dirty, black boots.

The shocks of pain were still zinging through his body like an electrical pulse. Exactly like an electrical pulse, he realized. He had been tased!

He could Owen groaning behind him, but before he could register anything else, he felt cold hands grab his wrists and begin dragging him through the doorway. He tried to grab the doorframe with his foot but a violent yank broke the tenuous hold he had.

"Boy, you are spirited. We'll have to see what we can do about that." A foot slammed into Ianto's side, hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. As he lay gasping, the man shut and locked the door to the room he had just been dragged from.

The man stepped toward him again, and Ianto tried to scurry back across the floor. His vain at escape only earned him another bout of laughter from the man.

"Who are you?" Ianto demanded.

The man stepped into the light for the first time and Ianto was able to get a good look at him. The man was so normal looking, so normal that it in itself was frightening. His hair was short and his skin pale. There were no features that stood out, except for his eyes. His eyes reminded him of Jack, the way they looked so deep, but unlike Jack, this man's eyes seemed to only hold darkness. It was terrifying to look at someone so empty.

He had a weapon of some kind in his hand. It looked somewhere between a taser and a gun. He imagined it was what the man had used to stun him moments ago.

The man tilted his head to the side and smirked. "My name's not important. Now get up; we have things to do."

Ianto was trying his best not to show the absolute terror that was coursing through him just below the surface. He shuffled to his feet and the man grabbed his wrists again, wrenching his arms back behind him.

The walked down the hall and turned right. Ianto was fairly certain the man wasn't going to just kill him, as that didn't make sense. Whoever this guy was, he hadn't gone through the hassle of kidnapping just to execute them. No, it seemed much more likely death wasn't going to be an option anytime soon, and that terrified him.

He thought back to the pictures of the bodies that the police had found. They'd all been tortured; burn marks, bruises, and cuts decorated their bodies, some were even missing limbs.

The thought of being tortured to death was more than Ianto could bear. Panicking, he twisted in the man's hold, thrashing wildly and shouting.

"Oh, now that won't do at all."

A stabbing pain cut through Ianto again, much more intense than before. The world blurred in a haze of pain, and then it went black.

When he woke, he found himself shackled to a wooden chair, his arms strapped down at his sides. He was bare from the waist up. He struggled for second in the bindings, only to find them ironclad. There was no getting free, he realized with a sinking feeling.

The man was leaned arrogantly against the wall in the far corner across from him, watching his struggles.

"About time you woke up." The man pushed himself off the wall. "I was getting bored."

Ianto swallowed. "What do you want?"

The man smiled innocently as he ran his finger alone the edge of the table. "Information, information that only you can give me."

Ianto looked up at him. "I don't know anything."

This made the man burst out in a gale of laughter. "Oh, now we know that's a lie, don't we? You're Ianto Jones, archivist for Torchwood Three. The man with all the answers."

Ianto narrowed his eyes, clenching his hands into fists. "I won't tell you anything."

"Oh, you will." The man sat down on the table's edge beside Ianto. "It's just a matter of time. Now tell me, where's Jack?"

Ianto's head snapped up and he glared at the man. "I don't know."

The man shook his head sadly, sliding off the table. "Wrong answer."

The man disappeared behind Ianto. The room was silent except for the faint shuffling of feet. Ianto's heart hammered in his chest and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck. The silence, the not knowing what would come next, was killing him.

His wait came to an end when a searing pain stabbed the middle of his back, followed by the smell of burning flesh. His back arched and he gritted his teeth, biting back a cry.

The man burned mark after mark into Ianto's flesh until tears began to run from Ianto's eyes. The pain of one burn bled into the next until he felt like it was consuming him. After what seemed an eternity, the man stopped, but the fire remained.

A warm hand brushed against Ianto's cheek, a thumb caressing away a tear. Ianto cringed back from the touch, only to make the pain flare again as the skin of his back brushed against the chair.

"Crying already and we've barely had any time to play." The man came and sat back down on the edge of table. "Are you ready to tell me where he is yet?"

Ianto sucked in an unsteady breath and pursed his lips. "Fuck you."

"Maybe later." The man stood and walked back behind Ianto, running his nails along the fresh burns of his back.

Ianto threw his head back and fought the urge to scream. His body shivered as the pain crashed over him.

"Maybe you just need some time to think," the man said. "It's good to let the mind wander, give your imagination time to think of all the ways I could pull answers I want from you. I find fear can be very persuasive, as well as pain."

The man removed the bindings him and tossed him his shirt and jacket. "Don't want you catching cold."

He shoved Ianto through the door to the cell and slammed it shut behind him. It took every ounce of control Ianto had in him not to scream in agony at the pain. He set his jaw tightly and took a few steadying breaths. The only thing in his world at that moment was the pain, nothing else. Slowly, the fiery pain of his back ebbed and he was able to straighten himself fully.

He had completely forgotten about Owen being in the room until he heard the doctor clear his throat in annoyance. "Well, how did it go?"

Ianto unclenched his fists, which he hadn't realized were even clenched. He took another breath, trying to steady himself enough to speak. No matter what happened, Ianto didn't want to show weakness in front of Owen.

Owen stepped closer, looking Ianto up and down carefully. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."


	3. Chapter 3

**In Plain Sight**

**Chapter 3**

When the door slammed closed, sealing Owen on one side and Ianto another, Owen's stomach lurched to his throat. He slammed his fists against the door, hollering for all he was worth, trying to draw the man back. It wasn't supposed to be Ianto.

Defeated, he slumped back to the floor, drawing up his knees. He held his head in his hands; everything seemed to be spinning out of control. Why had Ianto charged the man? There was no reason for Ianto doing what he did. Owen had it under control, mostly.

Owen beat his head against the door in frustration. He shouldn't be here, neither of them should. If they made it out of here, he was going to give Gwen, and her Wonder Woman ways, a piece of his mind.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts. He stood and moved back to the far wall. Being tased once was enough fun for one day.

The door lock clanked. The hinges moaned and creaked as it opened. Owen wasn't sure who or what to expect, but he tried to prepare himself for anything. He didn't need to wait long to find out. Two men with guns stepped into the room, one carrying a bundle in his arms.

"Boss says you'll be staying a while." The man tossed the bundle onto the floor. "He doesn't want you kicking off before he's done with you."

"How thoughtful," Owen said.

The man huffed and turned to leave, the other close behind him. The door slammed closed again, and Owen was left wondering just what the fuck that was all about.

Owen stared at the bundle, wondering whether or not to touch it; there could be any number of things concealed in it. It could be another trap.

Looking closer, he could see it was a blanket, maybe two. With nothing to lose, he squatted down and poked at the fabric, cringing back as he did.

When nothing happened, he frowned in confusion. Shrugging it off, he carefully shook the blanket open. There were indeed two. The second tumbled free and landed by his feet, two bottles of water rolling out of it and onto the floor.

He nudged the blanket on the floor with his foot, checking it for further content. Unfortunately, there weren't any more goodies hiding inside. He could have gone for a biscuit, too. He'd have to mention that to dumb and dumber if they came back.

Owen held up the blanket and gave it the once over. The material left something to desire, a bit rough, but it was better than nothing. Slowly, he brought the fabric towards his face, planning to sniff it, only to realize he couldn't smell a thing. His olfactory nerves had committed suicide hours ago.

Owen folded the blankets and placed them with the two bottles of water down beside them. The silence in the room was deafening. He began pacing back and forth, but after a few turns, he stopped. It wasn't helping; it only seemed to remind him more of where he was.

He sat down on the folded blankets and rested his forearms against his knees. Folding his hands together, he stared at the opposing wall and waited. It was all he could do. His thoughts wandered to Ianto and a heavy feeling of guilt washed over him.

He hadn't realized his eyes had slipped closed, but they shot open abruptly when the door clanked and groaned as it swung open. Blinking, Owen pushed himself to his feet. Seconds later, Ianto stumbled in. The door slammed shut again, and Owen felt a wave of relief seeing Ianto okay, but it was short-lived.

Owen frowned as he looked over the Welshman. Something didn't seem right, but he couldn't place just what it was yet. Ianto looked stiffer than usual; his skin was glistening with a fine layer of sweat. His eyes were red-rimmed as if he had been crying.

Owen cleared his throat, trying to gain Ianto's attention. "Well, how did it go?"

Ianto flexed his hands and looked at Owen, his mouth a tight line.

Owen stepped closer, looking him up and down, doing a quick cursory exam. Standing closer, he could see the sweat beading on Ianto forehead and the tension in his face. "What happened to you?"

Ianto frowned, stepping back. "Nothing, I'm fine. Just leave me alone."

Owen narrowed his eyes, his head cocking to the side. "You don't look fine."

Ianto drew a stuttering breath and tried to sidestep Owen, but the doctor was faster and moved to stop him. Owen placed his hand on Ianto's chest, keeping him still. "What did they want?"

Ianto stared at the wall. "He wanted to know where Jack was."

Owen scoffed and raised his brow. "They did all this just to find him? Christ, all they need to do is show a warm hole and he'll come running." Owen's brow furrowed. "So did you tell him that we have no idea where the moron took off to?"

Ianto's gaze snapped to Owen. "I told him I didn't know." Ianto paused, looking away again. "But he doesn't believe me."

There was something about the way Ianto spoke that unsettled Owen. He studied the Welshman again carefully, trying to decipher what he wasn't telling him. Ianto's was shivering now and his breath was coming in short pants.

"Ianto, did he hurt you?"

Ianto face tightened even more and his eyes flashed with rage. "You don't need to pretend like you care. There's no one here to impress."

Owen's hands balled into fists. "I was just trying to be nice, but now you can go fuck yourself."

Owen shoved Ianto back and moved to turn away, but halted as an agonized scream cut through the room.

Ianto head was thrown back and his teeth were gritted together. Tears were running down his cheeks.

Without thought, Owen moved to Ianto's side, one hand grabbing Ianto's wrist to check his pulse.

"Ianto, look at me." Owen's other hand cupped Ianto's chin, turning him to look at him. "You need to tell me what's wrong. Where does it hurt?"

Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, Ianto answered him. "My back— burned it."

Owen cursed. "All right, mate. I'm going to need to take a look. Do you think you can lie down?"

Ianto blinked. "The floor's dirty."

Owen smirked; only Ianto would think of that at a time like this. "Yeah, it is, but our wonderful captors have supplied us with some blankets. I can lay one out for you so you're not touching the floor."

Ianto nodded. "I'm going to need some help, though."

Owen walked Ianto over and laid a blanket out on the floor.

"Okay, mate. I need to take your shirt off now, all right?"

Ianto stood stock still as Owen began working each button of Ianto's shirt. Ianto's quietness was concerning. It wasn't like Ianto to be submissive, especially with anything medical.

"You still with me?"

Ianto closed his eyes. "Hurts."

Owen slid Ianto's shirt off his shoulders. "Just keeping taking slow, deep breaths."

Bracing himself, Owen stepped around Ianto and took his first glimpse at the damage. Owen clenched his jaw. This was worse than he'd imagined. It was no wonder Ianto hadn't collapsed from the pain. His entire upper back was a mess of burns of varying degrees and sizes, none smaller than an inch across. Some were severe, cutting deep into the flesh.

Ianto's shoulders shook as he tried to take a breath. "I'm starting to feel a bit dizzy."

Quickly, Owen moved around to Ianto's front, placing his hands on Ianto's hips to steady him. Ianto's face was deathly white. Owen knew shock was setting in.

"Let's get you lying down." Owen stayed close to Ianto's front and helped guide him down to the blanket, trying to block out Ianto's cries as he did.

Once Ianto was lying down, Owen stepped back and took a breath. Every muscle in his body tightened with anger. Seeing Ianto hurt like this was igniting surprising feelings in Owen. He wanted to protect him, to take the pain away. He imagined it was how it felt to have a younger brother, one you hated for stealing your shit but who you would be willing to die for if it would save him pain.

Taking a steadying breath, Owen began his work. He grabbed the other blanket and draped it over Ianto's legs and then grabbed one of the bottles of water.

Kneeling down beside Ianto, Owen placed a hand on the back of Ianto's neck in a reassuring gesture.

"Ianto, I need to know if you were hurt anywhere else."

Ianto shook his head. "No."

Owen sighed, thankful there was nothing else, but was then sick when he realized that they were still prisoners and that this was likely just the beginning.

"A few of these are pretty deep and there's some debris stuck to them." Owen paused. "I need to rinse them out."

Ianto's fists clenched. "Just do it."

"I'll be as quick as I can."

Owen kept to his word, working as quickly as he could. Ianto writhed in pain for a minute but finally succumbed and passed out.

Owen sat by Ianto's head when he was finished and rested a hand back on the nape of Ianto's neck. He hated feeling this helpless. Without his med kit, there was little he could do to relieve Ianto's pain, and if the girls didn't find them soon, Ianto might very well die from infection. Even in the best environment, burns were tricky things to treat and Ianto's were serious.

Every now and then, Owen would slip his fingers over to Ianto's carotid and check his pulse. He hoped Ianto would stay out for a while, but he knew it was unlikely.

Owen sat with Ianto through the night—or maybe it was the day; there was really no telling anymore—trying to soothe him. Neither of them had ever been the type to express emotion, especially to one another, but this was proving to be an exception for both.

The stress and exhaustion had taken their toll on Owen and he drifted off to sleep, one hand laced in Ianto's hair, but it didn't last. It felt like his eyes had just closed when he was jostled awake by the sounds of someone retching.

Ianto had pushed himself up on his forearms, his forehead resting on the blanket. The muscles of his back rippled with each dry heave. Owen sat forward and knelt down beside him. He tried to support him however he could, but it was near impossible with the burns on his back; so instead, he settled for clipping a hand under Ianto's forehead and making what he hoped were soothing sounds. As soon as he touched Ianto's skin though, he knew that his fears of infection were coming true. Ianto had a fever.

The retching finally stopped, and Ianto slumped back down onto the blanket. Owen was fairly certain he had seen tears streaming down Ianto's face, but he didn't say anything to draw attention, trying to let Ianto keep what little dignity remained.

Just as Owen was guiding Ianto back down, the door lock clanked again. It was the sound Owen had been waiting to hear. He knew they would be back, and part of him just wanted to get it over with.

Owen stood, putting himself between Ianto and the door, his hands clenched in fists and his jaw set tight.

The same man who had taken Ianto earlier stepped into the room. Owen rolled his shoulders and his lip curled, something near a growl hissed from his teeth.

The man smiled broadly. "Aw, look at you, defending him. That's very sweet, brotherly even."

Owen's eyes narrowed on the man. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Didn't your friend tell you?" the man asked. "I want Jack."

"Good for you, mate, but Jack's gone. He took off. He didn't tell us where he was going."

The man shrugged. "Well, we'll see about that, but for me, this is a win-win. Either you tell me where to find Jack or you don't, but either way, I get a few warm bodies to play with."

Owen's heart hammered in his chest; something about the dark glint in the man's eye made Owen believe every word. Whoever he was, his moral compass was missing from his kit. Panic began to spread through Owen as he watched two men with guns step into the room.

Not thinking, he charged one of the men as he approached Ianto, but was stopped quickly. A sharp pain cut through him just like before. He lay stunned, his gaze locked on the son-of-a-bitch that was giving the orders.

"Bring them back to the interrogation room, and if that one can't walk," he waved a hand in Ianto's direction, "drag him."


	4. Chapter 4

**In Plain Sight**

**Chapter 4**

"Gwen, I think I've found them." Tosh jumped to her feet, her chair rolling back behind her. "There's an abandoned factory in Port Talbot, about an hour's drive from here."

Gwen's brow pinched together as she studied the screen. "How sure are you that that's the same van from Butetown?"

Tosh glanced over her shoulder at Gwen. "Seventy percent." She winced.

Gwen ran a hand through her hair, pacing. "Seventy percent, that's pretty certain then, right?"

Tosh shrugged. "I don't know, Gwen. I … What if I'm wrong?"

Gwen pursed her lips. "It won't be your fault. We're doing this together."

xXx

Owen used all his strength to fight against the hold of the men forcing him down the hall, but it wasn't enough to get free. He could hear Ianto's screams as he was dragged down the hall behind him. Every one of them tore at Owen's heart. The agonized wails were unlike any noise he had ever heard a human being make before, a noise he would have happily gone to his grave never knowing a man could make.  
Owen was shoved into a poorly lit room. He could see it was much like the one they were being kept in. The walls were concrete, as was the floor. Rusty metal pipes ran along the ceiling edge. It had the same cold, damp feel. It sent a shiver through him.

"In the chair." A voice came from the shadows. "Strap him down."

Owen was pushed down into a hard wooden chair, leather straps were tightened around his forearms and legs.

The sounds in the hall began to change. Ianto's once agonized pleas were now only groans and whimpers. It sounded like someone was dragging a heavy, wet sack into the room. The first thing Owen saw was the back of one of the men, his gun slung over his shoulder. The man grunted as he pulled Ianto in by his wrists.

Owen wanted to look away but he couldn't; he needed to see how Ianto was. A sickening realization came over Owen, making his body go heavy and his stomach fight to come up through his throat. He was going to watch one of his teammates die and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As Ianto was dragged fully into the room, Owen knew it wouldn't be long before his friend succumbed to his injuries. There was a trail of red painted along the floor behind Ianto. It was no wonder he had been screaming. There was only so much pain a person could take before they gave up.

Owen broke his gaze from Ianto and glared at the man in charge. The man didn't look disturbed or remorseful; he looked pleased, accomplished even.

"I swear to you, if he dies—"

The man chuckled, stepping closer, his head tilted to the side. "You'll what? Scream?"

Owen tried to throw his weight to break free, but the chair didn't budge with his struggles. "Fuck you!"

The man rolled his eyes and turned to Ianto. "Prop him up in the chair, would you?"

As soon as Ianto was upright, Owen could see the pain in his features. Ianto's mouth hung open and his breath was coming in quick, short pants.

As if sensing Owen's gaze, Ianto's eyes fluttered open, meeting Owen's for a moment. The doctor struggled to find something to say to ease Ianto's suffering, but he didn't know what. Should he lie, tell him it was all going to be okay when they both knew it wasn't? There was little chance help was coming, at least not in time to save Ianto.

Taking a breath, Owen did the only thing that seemed humane even though it went against his oath as a doctor.

"Ianto," Owen called. "Ianto, listen to me. I want you to close your eyes. Let yourself go to sleep. I know you're tired, just let go, Ianto," he soothed. "It's okay."

Ianto eyes closed and his chin rested against his chest. The man in charge looked between Owen and Ianto, clearly stunned by what Owen had said.

"That was unexpected." The man settled his gaze on Owen. "I thought you'd beg him to hang on—not to give in." The man studied Owen. "Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to give him a reason to stay awake."

"Leave him the fuck alone!" Owen snarled. "You want someone to torture? I'm right here. Torture me!"

The man shook his head. "You don't get it, do you? I _am_ torturing you," he said. "I'm just using him to do it. I imagine you'll tell me all kinds of things to protect him."

Owen pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring. "How many times do you need to hear it? We don't know where Jack is!"

The man smiled. "We'll see about that."

Owen growled, again slamming his body with frustration in the restraints. He hated being helpless.

The man walked over to Ianto, who was slumped in the chair, eyes closed. Without warning, the man slammed his fist into Ianto's back. Ianto's eyes snapped open. He threw his head back, his neck corded with pain.

The guards in the room shifted uncomfortably as they watched. The man took notice and sent them out to the hall.

"It's so difficult to find capable help these days," he muttered as the door shut behind them.

The man walked to the table where Ianto was seated. Owen noticed that again, Ianto had closed his eyes. Owen prayed to whatever god there was that Ianto would slip away before too much more time passed. The image of Ianto's pained face staring back at him was one that he couldn't bear to see again.

The man sat on the edge of the table beside Ianto, bending to appraise the Welshman's face. "He is pretty, isn't he? I see why my—" The man paused as if his own words had surprised him. "Why _Jack_ likes him so."

Owen saw a brief flash of emotion flit over the man's face, something that looked akin to pain.

The man's head snapped up and his face was once again a hard, cold mask.

"Time to play," he announced, pushing the table back, exposing Ianto fully to Owen's view.

Owen clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose. "Leave him alone!"

The man blinked at him, frowning a little. "I'm afraid that wouldn't be very much fun."

The man walked to the far wall and stooped down, digging through a bag on the floor. The contents rattled and clanked in his search.

"Here we are," the man proclaimed triumphantly, turning to face Owen. "This will do perfectly."

The man was holding a Stanley knife. Owen cringed at the thought of what the man could do with such a tool. He wasn't going to need to wait long to find out, though. In three short strides, the man was standing in front of Ianto, who appeared to have drifted into unconsciousness.

Owen's breathing increased, and his eyes began to water as he watched the man kneel before Ianto, blade coming ever closer to Ianto's exposed chest. Owen tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.

He watched in horror as the blade pressed against the skin over Ianto's sternum. The flesh parted neatly as it trailed down his chest. Blood, thick and red, slowly wept from the wound.

At first, Ianto didn't react. Owen thought that maybe he wasn't going to wake, that maybe he had reached a point he wasn't coming back from, but he was wrong. Ianto groaned in pain and his eyes fluttered open, coming to focus on the man in front of him.

Owen wondered if Ianto even knew what was happening. Between the fever, the pain, and the blood, it didn't seem likely.

The man smiled, and he lifted his hand, ready to draw the blade along Ianto's chest again.

Before it touched his skin, Owen shouted, trying to draw his attention away. "Leave him alone!"

The man looked at him. "Then tell me what I want to know."

Owen glared at the man, his mouth a tight line. "I'm telling you the truth. We don't know where he is!"

The man didn't look convinced, and he pressed the knife to Ianto's skin again, making a new line, parallel to the last. Again, Ianto's head fell back, and he groaned in pain.

Owen tried to think but it was so hard to focus. "He said he was waiting for a doctor—some special kind of doctor."

The man frowned, blinking. "The Doctor?"

Owen brows knitted together. "I don't know. He just said doctor!"

The man studied him. "Okay."

Owen raised a brow. "Okay?"

The man nodded. "I mean, I believe you." The man traced a finger over Ianto's chest, smearing the blood, rubbing it between his fingers. "I've heard things … rumors. What you said makes sense."

"You can let us go, then."

The man looked over at Owen, eyes alight with mirth. "Of course not! Why would I do that?"

"You said you wanted to find Jack. I told you all I know. Let us go!"

"If I can't have Jack, then I want him to know what happens to the people you care about when you leave them behind." The man traced a bloody finger over Ianto's cheek.

Owen's body vibrated with anger. "Don't you dare touch him!"

"Again with the idle threats. You do realize that you are both at my mercy?"

Owen roared. "I will find a way to make you pay! Torchwood will make you pay. You won't get away with this!"

The man didn't turn or acknowledge Owen in any way; instead, he stood in front of Ianto, running a hand through Ianto's hair.

Ianto stirred and opened his eyes, looking up at him. His breathing was labored and he narrowed his eyes at the man. "Fuck … you," Ianto breathed between heavy gasps for air. "You're a pathetic excuse for a man."

Owen was horrified and proud at the same time. Ianto wasn't going down quietly.

The man looked enraged. He twisted his fingers in Ianto's hair and pulled back his head. He stooped down, so he was face to face with him. "I'll show you a man!" he sneered.

The most twisted, insane sound filled the room; it was Ianto's laughter, a horrid, cackling laugh that shook his damaged body. Owen's mind tried to wrap around what he was seeing, but it couldn't. It was so extreme, so macabre, so awful, his mind wasn't capable of processing the scene before him.

Owen wanted to beg Ianto to stop, the sound was so disturbing, but he couldn't. The words weren't there.

Owen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to break from him. It was all too much to bear. He just wanted to make it all stop, to disappear. Closing his eyes may have stopped him from witnessing the horror, but he couldn't avoid hearing it.

There was a hollow thumping sound and Ianto's cackling stuttered to a stop, replaced by gasping. Owen didn't want to open his eyes; his mind was already doing a great job conjuring up horrible images. He hung his head, defeated, his eyes still closed as he listened to the sounds he was unable to avoid.

Owen wondered if what lay beyond his eyelids was better or worse than what his mind was imagining. Part of knew it very well could be worse.

He wondered what kind of person it made, looking away. Did it make him a lesser person for not meeting Ianto's gaze in his final moments? Would a better person have tried to offer support or comfort through words in a time this? Was he a coward for closing his eyes?

The sounds of metal clinking echoed in the room, followed by rustling and muffled curses. Owen's stomach heaved, and he found himself retching bile over his chest. He knew what those sounds were, the rustling of fabric. He knew what was about to happen, if had not already begun.

Tears began to trail down Owen's face, and his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails began to cut into his palms.

Then something cracked in the distance. Gunshots. Owen's eyes snapped open. It was clear that the man had heard it too. He was up and at the door in an instant, straightening his clothes, his eyes wild. The man ducked out the door as more shots rang out. This time they were closer, and he could only hope that, somehow, rescue had found them.

Owen began shouting for help, and a moment later, it came. Tosh came charging into the room, gun in hand, blood splattered over her face. It was a shocking sight. From the look of the splatter, she had shot someone at near point-blank range.

Her gaze skittered around the room, her face paling in shock as it all registered. She looked frozen between who to go to first, Ianto or him.

Owen needed to break her out of the shock. Ianto needed him. "Tosh, snap the fuck out of it!"

Tosh's gaze snapped to Owen. Another shot came from the hall and then Gwen stepped in the room.

"Untie me!" Owen shouted, snapping Gwen into action. She ran to his side, her gaze continued to stray to Ianto's prone form.

"Focus, Gwen!" Owen said through gritted teeth.

By the time Owen was free, Tosh was already kneeling by Ianto, a hesitant hand reaching out to comfort him.

"Don't touch him!" Owen shouted on reflex. Tosh drew back and Owen pushed in beside her. "I need my kit now!"

Tosh ran from the room and returned seconds later with all the medical supplies she could carry. It was clear that the girls had anticipated all possible outcomes and injuries. While he worked, Tosh stood by the door on guard. Gwen assisted Owen, explaining how they came to find them.

"Did you see a man in a dressed in a tan jumper wearing jeans? He was my height, brown hair, black boots."

Gwen shook her head, holding a piece of gauze in place. "The only ones I saw were dressed in black."

"Shit," Owen cursed. "Tosh did you see him?"

Tosh frowned, shaking her head. "Sorry, but no, no one like that."

Owen threw the scissors he was holding at the wall, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"Owen?" Gwen asked.

"He got away." Owen grabbed at his kit, digging for a new pair of scissors. "The fucker got away!"


	5. Chapter 5

**In Plain Sight**

**Chapter 5**

It had taken nearly an hour to get Ianto stable enough to move, but being in that room, it felt even longer. Carefully, they moved him to the SUV and settled him in the back. They laid him on his stomach and used blankets to support his sides so he didn't shift as they drove. Owen hung the IV from the handle on the ceiling and settled in beside him. He wasn't able to completely sedate Ianto, but he was medicating him enough to dull the pain.

The damage done to his friend was sickening, and it made Owen question whether he had done enough to try and stop it from happening. It should have been him, not Ianto. Ianto was too young. Despite what he put out to the world, Owen knew that Ianto wasn't superhuman. He was just a kid with a fucked up past and barely a future to look forward to. Just like Owen, Ianto was working at Torchwood for darker reasons. They'd both lost everything important and had nothing to lose by dying.

There was a heavy silence in the car. It was clear no one was ready to discuss what had happened. Gwen and Tosh looked lost as to what to say. It was clear they were distraught; both of them had tears in their eyes, and with every whimper or groan of pain from Ianto, they would both turn and look back at Owen.

For once, Gwen had no qualms about speeding. Her foot remained firmly planted on the accelerator, causing occasional shouts of caution from Tosh.

About halfway back to Cardiff, it seemed the jostling roads became too much for Ianto, whose face was twisted in pain. Owen didn't dare give him more morphine, and there was little else he could do medically to ease his discomfort. Glancing up front, he could see the girls were just as concerned as he was. Sighing, Owen slipped Ianto's hand into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ianto gave him a weak squeeze back.

Owen held his hand for the rest of the journey home, doing his best to soothe Ianto through the worst of the ride. They were all relieved when they reached the familiar streets of Cardiff.

After flashing their Torchwood credentials, Owen was able to oversee Ianto's care. The used a cover story as usual; the Torchwood name allowed them a lot of leeway when it came to explanations. Thankfully, no one pushed for answers beyond the obvious.

Owen tried to push his way in amongst the chaos of doctors and nurses, but Tosh pulled him back. It was probably for the best, as he was far from clean and a risk of infection for Ianto. Gwen borrowed some scrubs from the nurses and passed them to Owen, insisting he go cool off and shower.

Huffing his disapproval, he stormed off toward the showers. He tried to make quick work of it, pouring the shampoo on his head and using it to soap his whole body. After a quick rinse, he dried off and donned the scrubs. They made him feel like he had stepped back in time, and he didn't really care for the reminder.

By the time he'd returned, Ianto had been moved to a private room—thanks to Gwen's persistence, citing a need for security.

Owen immediately went to Ianto's chart, nabbing it from the nurse's grasp, mumbling about the incompetence of the NHS. They had begun Ianto on a course of IV antibiotics. They had ordered a portable x-ray and ultrasound, seeing the bruising on Ianto's ribs and side. Owen felt another stab of guilt, as he knew a few of those were his doing. He hadn't meant—well, he did at the time—to actually hurt him. He was just so pissed about the whole situation that he took it out on Ianto. And it wasn't like Ianto didn't hit him back.

The burns had become badly infected and some had begun to close with debris caught inside. The edges were all torn down, peeling back the first layer of skin from where he was dragged down the hall. The extent and range of severity made treating his back that much harder. No matter what they did, Ianto was going to be left with the scars as a permanent reminder of what he'd endured.

They kept Ianto heavily sedated, but even still, Owen caught a twitch of pain pass over his features as the staff worked.

All the scans came out blessedly clean of internal damage, but Owen checked over them himself to make sure, not trusting the trained chimps that the NHS called doctors.

It was evening by the time the nurses had Ianto settled in the bed. It had taken a bit of creative maneuvering, but they managed to get him propped so his back was exposed yet nothing was putting pressure on the stitches across his front.

"I've called Rhys," Gwen broke the silence in the room. "Told him to go to his mum's."

Owen glanced over at her. "That's good. We don't need him to worry about, too."

Gwen shook her head, walking over to window. "What are we going to do?"

"What we always do: try not to die."

Gwen looked over her shoulder, scowling. "I'm serious, Owen. There's someone out there who's after us."

"Not us, _Jack_ ," Owen corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. "I think he's made his point. I doubt he'll risk coming back. With any luck, he'll find Jack and give him what he deserves."

Tosh looked up from her laptop, which she had rested on the bedside table. "Don't say that, Owen. No one deserves this kind of treatment."

"Well, we didn't deserve to be left to fend for ourselves while his fucking past comes back to haunt us!"

Tosh nodded, looking down in defeat.

Gwen walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't take him personally." Gwen glared at Owen. "Being a knob comes naturally to him."

Owen flipped Gwen off and settled into the chair beside Ianto. He blinked tiredly, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was beginning to feel the effects of the last few days. His body ached, and his eyelids suddenly felt like they were being weighted down. Owen drifted off to sleep, listening to Gwen and Tosh whispering about what they were going to do next. Owen would have chimed in, but he didn't really care what they thought. He wasn't going to leave Ianto's side anytime soon; Ianto was going to need support to heal, and Owen was going to be the one to give it to him, whether he wanted it or not.

Sleep didn't last long, though. When the nurse came in to change the IV bag, Owen woke up, insisting on double checking the contents. While he was up, he checked over Ianto's vitals and took a moment to straighten the blanket that was covering Ianto's legs.

Tosh had fallen asleep, sitting on the floor in the corner with a blanket curled around her. Gwen was sitting by the window, fidgeting with the hem of her jumper.

"How's he doing?" she asked.

Owen turned the chair towards Gwen and sat. "He's doing better now. His temp is down and he doesn't seem to be in pain."

Gwen nodded, sniffling. It was then that Owen realized that she had been crying.

"He's going to be all right, Gwen." He hoped he sounded reassuring because he wasn't really all that convinced it was going to be fine.

"I shouldn't be the one crying," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I haven't even asked you how you were doing."

Owen tried to force a smile. "I'm good, no worries here."

"I know he hurt him, but what about you? I mean, are you okay?"

Owen swallowed, looking down. "He used Ianto against me, made me listen, watch him—" He stopped, the memories too fresh, too painful, to recount. "But it's fine. Don't worry about me."

Gwen let the subject drop and went back to looking out over the night sky.

It was nearly a week before they began to taper back Ianto's sedation. The infection was clearing up and his back was slowly healing. The morphine still made him drowsy and he was only able to stay awake for short periods of time at first, but Ianto managed to make one point clear rather quickly: he didn't want to stay in the hospital.

"I want to go home," Ianto grumbled against the pillow.

Owen sighed, bracing himself for another round of 'why you need to stay in the hospital.' It had been a constant topic of discussion every time Ianto was feeling well enough to talk.

"Look, mate. You need care, a lot of care, care that you can get easily in here. If you go home, there's no one there to help you, to change your dressings, to give you meds, help you take a piss …"

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his jaw. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Owen, blinking innocently. "Please, Owen. I can't stay here. I'll go to the hub. I'll even stay with you if it means I don't have to be here, but I am tired of feeling like everyone is watching me."

Owen scrubbed a hand over his face. "Christ, Ianto. I just—" Owen sighed. "Fine, I'll see what I can do to get you out of here, but you'll have to stay with someone."

Ianto took an unsteady breath. "Would it be all right if I stayed with you? It's not that I want to spend time with you, but I can't deal with being pitied, and I know you won't."

"Yeah, well I never did have a great bedside manner. If you want to stay with me, you can. But don't think I won't kick your ass if you don't behave."

Ianto closed his eyes. "Thank you."

Tosh and Gwen were both against the idea at first, but once Ianto gave them the sad puppy eyes, they gave in as well. Ianto could be very convincing when he wanted to be, even when he was doped up to the gills.

It took some string pulling, but they managed to get an ambulance to help move Ianto to Owen's flat. Tosh had already set up Owen's bedroom to receive him. The bedding had all been changed, and there was a new IV pump with stand beside the bed. She had done an excellent job gathering supplies. She had even found beside commode for him, much to Ianto's chagrin.

"I was only trying to think ahead. You may not need it," Tosh tried to explain.

Ianto managed to still pull off a respectable glare. "I am _not_ going to use that."

Owen was regretting his decision to bring Ianto home. "If you need it, you will. End of discussion."

Ianto turned his head and closed his eyes, effectively ending the discussion.

"Is there anything else you need?" Tosh asked.

"No, I think we're set," Owen said.

"Okay, well we'll leave you two to it then." Gwen walked over and ran a hand through Ianto's hair.

Owen didn't miss the way Ianto jumped at the unexpected touch. He would have to take them aside and talk to them. They couldn't approach Ianto like they used to. It was very possible that he would suffer from post-traumatic stress.

Tosh grabbed her bag. "Call if you need anything."

Owen saw them out and came back to the new makeshift hospital bed. Ianto was sleeping comfortably. Careful not to wake him, Owen tucked the blanket gingerly around him, stopping to brush his knuckles along over Ianto's cheek.

_What the fuck were they going to do?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

More than once during Ianto's first night with Owen, the doctor considered suffocating the Welshman with a pillow. Owen had expected that caring for Ianto was going to be challenging, but he was beginning to suspect that Ianto was purposely pushing his buttons—and patience—to the limit.

It was much like caring for an infant, an infant that had nightmares and shouted for Owen throughout the night, requesting various things. By the time the sun began to crest over Cardiff, warming the room with light, Owen was ready to collapse. And Ianto was ready to eat.

"Owen"—Ianto pushed himself up on his elbows—"I want to get up. I'm hungry and need to piss."

Owen sighed, stretching in the chair. He had just gotten comfortable, curled up in the chair he had dragged in from the lounge sometime around two in the morning.

"Owen, are you awake?"

Everything ached as Owen tried to pull himself up. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"Owen!"

The doctor slammed his hands against the armrests. "I'm getting up! Christ, Ianto."

Owen tossed the blanket he had wrapped around himself to the floor and stumbled over to Ianto's bedside. Owen stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders, yawning. He checked the IV bag; it was nearly finished.

"All right, I need your arm." In the past he might have just grabbed it and yanked it out from underneath Ianto, but Owen knew those days were in the past.

Ianto shifted, presenting his arm to Owen, who quickly detached the line.

Ianto gave Owen and impatient look. "I'm not trying to rush you, but if you don't help me up, the bed's going to suffer."

"Don't you dare," Owen warned. "That is a five-hundred quid duvet set."

"Not a choice really," Ianto said. "If you want it safe, I would hurry up."

Owen helped Ianto shift up onto his side, and then reached down to the side of the bed where Tosh had set out a box of supplies, retrieving the urinal.

Ianto looked at the proffered item like it had personally offended him.

"Look, mate, now's not the time. You're not ruining my mattress."

Ianto huffed, but reached out and took it anyway. "I've got it from here."

Owen nodded and turned his back, giving Ianto a hint of privacy. He didn't want to leave Ianto alone. It was quite possible he would need a hand, despite his insistence that he was capable.

Ianto made some pained noises and Owen heard the shuffling of fabric. Thankfully, Ianto was able to handle the task, much to Owen's relief.

"Finished."

Owen turned and quickly took the urinal from Ianto and whisked it out of the room, emptying it in the toilet. He brought it back into the room and went to wash up.

When he got back, Ianto was trying, and failing, to shift himself to a sitting position.

"What the hell are you doing?" Owen snapped. He immediately regretted it. Ianto jumped and twisted, causing him to grimace in pain. "Shit, sorry."

Owen hurried to Ianto's side, his hand seeming to move of its own volition as it reached out to cradle Ianto's cheek. "Take a few slow, deep breaths for me."

Ianto took a stuttered breath and then let it out. "I'm okay now."

Owen moved his hand down to press his fingers against Ianto's carotid, not surprised to feel his pulse racing. He knew Ianto didn't want to show weakness, but he couldn't stop his body from reacting. Owen knew he had screwed up startling Ianto like he had. He should have known better.

"Just take a few more breaths and relax for a minute. There's no rush."

Ianto glanced up at Owen and nodded weakly. Ianto closed his eyes and steadied his breathing.

"I am sorry for shouting. I wasn't thinking. Speaking of not thinking, what were you trying to do?"

Ianto raised a brow, looking up at Owen. "I thought that was obvious. I was getting up."

Owen chuckled, shaking his head. "I gathered as much, but you know, Ianto, all you had to do was ask for help. I would have given you a hand."

"I know. I just wanted to do it on my own."

"Fair enough, but from now on, at least warn me so I can be ready to lend a hand if you need it."

Ianto nodded. "I'm still hungry."

"Well, you're not due for another round of antibiotics for a while. You want to try to hobble to the kitchen? I think you could sit on one of the stools."

Ianto pursed his lips and then nodded. "I don't trust your cooking, someone needs to supervise."

"Fuck you." Owen laughed. "I'll have you know, I am a whizz in the kitchen."

Ianto smirked. "Only because it helps you get laid."

"I don't need cooking skills to get laid."

Ianto barked a laugh. "No, you're right. You use alien pheromone spray for that."

Owen huffed. "Fuck you, Ianto."

Ianto smirked. "No thanks."

As Owen began to help Ianto up, he realized he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Moving Ianto to the kitchen was no easy task. Owen walked backwards and allowed Ianto to brace himself against Owen's shoulders.

"Fucking hell," Ianto said through gritted teeth.

"Almost there, few more steps."

Owen caught the stool with his foot and dragged it out from the island. He eased Ianto down onto the seat and held his shoulders while Ianto caught his breath.

"Good?"

"Yeah, wasn't too bad, all things considered. Better than being dragged, I guess."

Owen felt a twinge of nausea as the memories of Ianto's screams echoed through his mind. He shuddered. It didn't seem right that Ianto was able to speak so lightly of what had happened.

"I'm going take a look at your back before I start cooking, make sure all this moving hasn't irritated anything."

Owen did a quick once over. It didn't look great, but it didn't look any worse than it had before they started. There was some redness and swelling around a few of the deeper wounds that were on his shoulder blades, but that was to be expected with the effort and stretching.

"Right then, no new damage," Owen announced, pressing a piece of gauze back down and re-securing the tape.

"I told you I was fine."

Owen walked around to face Ianto, pointing a finger at him. "You need to drop the 'I'm fine' bullshit. Pitying someone and caring for someone are two different things."

Ianto looked away, staring down at the countertop. Apparently, it was suddenly very interesting.

"I mean it, Ianto," Owen said. "You need to talk to me, tell me if you're hurting. And I don't just mean about the physical stuff. What you've been through would make anyone—"

Ianto gaze snapped to Owen. "I can handle it!"

Owen stepped back, putting up his hands in a placating gesture. Ianto's hands were balled in fists and he was breathing so fast Owen was worried he may begin to hyperventilate.

"All right, you can handle it." Owen would let it drop for now, but they would be talking again later. It was clear that Ianto was far from fine.

Owen prepared Ianto a plate of scrambled eggs, which Ianto poked out for the better part of five minutes before he finally brought a small forkful to his mouth.

"I thought you were hungry," Owen said, shoving the last bit into his mouth.

Ianto stirred the eggs again, his elbow rested on the table and his head resting on his hand. "I was."

"And you're not now?"

Ianto dropped his fork onto his plate and slid it away from him. "Things changed."

Owen nodded, grabbing Ianto's plate with his own and carrying them to the sink. He took notice of how much was left on Ianto's as he scraped it into the bin. Ianto had only eaten few mouthfuls; another reason that Owen knew Ianto was not okay.

It was no easier moving Ianto back to bed. Actually, it was harder because Ianto was in a miserable mood and cursed Owen with every step.

Using the extra pillows Tosh had supplied, Owen was able to situate Ianto so he could face the room. It wasn't perfect, but Ianto could use a laptop if he wanted or watch TV now at least, which would hopefully mean less bitching about the décor.

Owen insisted that Ianto drink an Ensure since he didn't eat. Ianto grumbled, but drank it nonetheless.

"It doesn't taste like chocolate," Ianto announced as he sipped the shake through the straw.

Owen crossed his arms over his chest. "Tough, you need something in your stomach."

"In fact," Ianto continued, "it tastes like shit."

Owen sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Anyone ever told you what a pain in the ass you are?"

Ianto smirked. "I'm adorable, and you know it."

"Shut up and drink it already."

Ianto rolled his eyes, but continued to sip the chocolate concoction.

"I'm going to clean up you up a bit," Owen said. "Gwen will be over in an hour or so. She's got some things to cheer you up."

Ianto closed his eyes. "Please tell me it's not more balloons."

"It's not more balloons," Owen parroted.

Ianto scowled at him.

"Hey, don't go making that face. I was doing as I was told."

"I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Owen grabbed his supplies and sat down on the edge of the bed behind Ianto.

"How's the pain?" Owen asked, peeling away the dressings.

"It's not too bad. I can handle it."

"Right then, so it's time for another dose of happy juice."

"I said it wasn't too bad. What happened to you doing what you were told?"

"I've known you long enough to know that your 'not too bad' is a normal person's 'holy fuck that hurts.'"

Ianto did his best to glare at him over his shoulder, but it wasn't very effective. It only made him look like a grumpy teddy bear, which Owen found rather endearing.

Owen worked as quickly as he could, not wanting to cause Ianto any more pain than necessary. The infection was resolving and the smaller wounds were closing. It was the larger ones, the ones that were jagged, deep and torn that he was most worried about. Those were going to take time to heal and they were going to scar like hell.

But there was another type of wound Ianto had sustained that Owen couldn't treat with simple plasters, no matter how much he wished he could. The emotional damage was just beginning to show. It would be take time for those to heal and the scars to fade.

Owen suspected that Ianto was in a state of shock, his mind only allowing small pieces of what happened to process at a time. It was a probably a good thing. His body and mind could only deal with so much at once. Hopefully the impending breakdown would hold off until his body was better able to take the strain of tears and inevitable anger.

"Okay, I think you're all set for a bit. Do you want to slip on a gown before Gwen arrives or are you okay in just the pajama bottoms?"

Ianto shrugged. "I'll just cover up with a sheet. If I wanted to wear a nightie, I would have stayed in the hospital."

"Fair enough," Owen said, walking around to the nightstand to retrieve a new IV bag. "I'm going to set you up again. Since you're not eating or drinking shit, I want to keep you hydrated. I'll get you some pains meds as well."

Owen tossed the old bag into the bin and hung the new one. He reattached the IV to Ianto and set the machine. He then went to shelf and retrieved the meds, putting some pills in a small cup on the nightstand along with a bottle of water. "Take those and try to sip on the water. If those pills don't do the trick, let me know. I can give you something stronger. I am also going to make you some toast, which I expect you to eat."

"Yes, Mum."

There was a knock at the door and they both looked up.

"That would be Gwen, I imagine," Owen said, grabbing a sheet and laying it over Ianto. "I need to have a word with her and then she'll be in."

Surprisingly, Gwen wasn't toting balloons and flowers like Owen had been expecting; instead, she had a bag from Debenhams.

"Unless he's planning on going shirtless, he's going to need something loose and comfortable to wear," she explained, taking the assortment of shirts out of the bag and laying them on the kitchen counter. "So, you said we needed to talk?"

Owen leaned against the counter. "Yeah, it's about Ianto."

Gwen's expression immediately switched to concern. "Is he all right?"

Owen put up a hand. "Easy, he's physically fine, but it's the other stuff I wanted to talk to you about."

Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. "Go on, then."

"We're all going to need to be careful around him. It's not going to take much to startle him. I already screwed up this morning, coming back in the room I shouted, not thinking, and he had a panic attack."

"Did you try and talk to him about it?"

"Yeah and he snapped at me for it. I don't know want to push him to talk yet, and I don't think we should. He doesn't need any extra stress."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm managing. I didn't go through what Ianto did."

"Owen, what exactly did that guy do to him? You never gave any details."

"Trust me, Gwen. You don't want to know."

Gwen nodded and gently placed a hand on Owen's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I'm going to go see Ianto. Why don't you give Tosh a call? She's been having a hard go of it. She's been blaming herself for not finding you guys sooner."

Owen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'll check in with her. Just remember what I said about Ianto, make sure he hears you approaching and don't touch him. It seems to upset him the most."

Gwen gathered the clothes back up and put them in the bag. Owen smiled as he listened to her heavy steps as she walked toward the bedroom. She was making her presence known.

Owen slotted two pieces of bread into the toaster and pulled his phone from his pocket, quickly dialing Tosh's cell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tosh and Gwen had both been taking shifts monitoring the hub. There had been no sign of the mystery man that had played them all so well. It wasn't comforting to say the least. Owen wanted nothing more than to find the man so he could slowly and painfully return the hospitality he'd shown him and Ianto.

Despite a protest from Tosh, Gwen contacted UNIT and spoke to the director, giving them a briefing on what had happened. As expected, they were interested and began an investigation of their own. They asked briefly about Jack, but Gwen deflected their questioning, not wanting them to know that their fearless leader had up and left them. If they found out Torchwood was being run by the four of them, it was likely they would send someone down to take over.

Tosh had come by twice over the last two days, bringing a few groceries and supplies. On Owen's request, she also brought a few different flavors of nutritional shakes. Ianto wasn't a fan of chocolate, having referred to it as something akin to diarrhea in a glass. Owen had to practically pour the last one down the Welshman's throat to get it into him.

Owen had watched him closely for the last two days. Never once did Ianto mention what had happened in that abandoned factory. In fact, his demeanor was so calm it was unnerving. Owen didn't know how Ianto could do it. Every time Owen closed his eyes, he saw flashes of Ianto writhing on the floor of that dank, cold room. He found himself jumping at the slightest noise. Sometimes, he thought he could smell that sour, mildewed odor that had permeated the room they were kept in.

It felt like he had been sucked into a black hole; his life had changed so dramatically in the last few weeks it was barely recognizable.

He felt responsible for the Ianto. If he was honest with himself, he had always felt some kinship with him, but now it was much stronger. Owen didn't like admitting things like that; it threatened the walls that he had created around himself. Letting people in meant that he could be hurt, and he'd had enough hurt in his life. But Ianto was becoming an exception to his rules. He was pulling emotions from Owen that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

Owen ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. He tossed the last plate into the dishwasher and kicked it closed. He paused to listen for a moment, checking on Ianto. He could hear the TV blaring, and he chuckled to himself as he heard the sounds of bickering teens. The doctor would have never guessed the stoic Welshman to be one for reality TV, let alone one about teen pregnancies. Living with Ianto had changed Owen's view of him dramatically; it humanized him in a way.

"Ianto, you want anything from the kitchen?"

Owen heard a bit of shuffling and then the volume lowered.

"Water, if you don't mind."

Owen shook his head. "How about some toast, too?"

Ianto's lack of appetite was becoming an issue.

"Just water."

"If you're not going to eat, then I am going to bring you another shake."

"Is that supposed to be a threat? Why did you bother asking me if you were planning on shoving food down my throat anyway?"

The volume suddenly cranked up and the flat filled with the sounds of a teenage girl complaining about the size of her swollen ankles. Owen took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He knew it wasn't worth arguing. He just went to the fridge and retrieved a bottle of Ensure and poured it into a glass. He began to walk to the bedroom, but stopped, going to the cabinet and grabbing a packet of Hobnobs. He recalled Ianto nibbling on them when he was filing reports and figured it was worth a shot.

Owen walked over to the blaring TV and turned it off, much to Ianto's annoyance.

"Here, I brought you something to eat." Owen tossed him the packet of biscuits and walked over to the bedside, setting down the glass on the nightstand.

Ianto looked at the package suspiciously. "How long have these sat in your cupboard?"

Owen huffed. "Don't be such a twat. I do know how to shop, besides, those things last forever. I don't think they can go bad."

The younger man raised a brow but began to open them. "Somehow I fail to find your logic reassuring."

"Shut up and eat already."

Ianto rolled his eyes, taking one out and sniffing it before taking a bite. He ate all of one biscuit, for a whopping total of 67 calories. Not nearly enough, Owen thought worriedly.

Owen checked over Ianto's wounds. Things were looking better. The infection was clearing and scar tissue was slowly filling in the around the damaged skin.

Coming around to Ianto's front, Owen sat on the edge of the bed. "I think we should talk about what happened."

Ianto glanced at Owen and then looked away, reaching for the remote on the nightstand and turning the TV back on.

Owen reached for the remote, trying to snatch it back from Ianto. "Look, mate, I know you want to ignore what happened, but you can't. It will eat you alive."

He tightened his grip on the controller and yanked it from Owen's grasp. "Leave me alone. I said I was fine."

"I don't care what you say. We both know it's a lie. You're not fine, Ianto. No one can be okay after something like that. Hell, I can't sleep; all I can think about is what happened, and what happened to you was—" Owen closed his eyes, swallowing a painful knot. "I care about you. Please let me help you." Owen looked over at him pleadingly.

Ianto was staring blankly past the TV at the wall behind it. Owen waited, watching his expression for any sign of change. Finally, he blinked and then pointed the remote at the TV, clicking it off.

"What am I supposed to say?" Ianto asked, rolling back a bit on the pillows.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, mate. This isn't easy for me to talk about either, but we need to. You need to."

Panic flitted over Ianto's features. "I don't know... I don't know what to say."

Owen's hand hovered. He wanted to rest it on Ianto's knee but not sure if the touch would be welcomed. He decided against it and placed it in his lap.

"Why don't I start, then?" Owen said. "I want to apologize. I should have never done what I did. I only made things worse for you. I didn't think. I didn't—"

"Stop, Owen. I'm pretty sure it would have happened even if you didn't throw a tantrum. I don't blame you. That's not why I'm like this." He gestured vaguely at himself.

Owen wondered if he was implying more than just the physical. Afraid to interrupt, Owen nodded and stayed silent, hoping he would continue. He didn't have to wait long.

Ianto took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling, avoiding Owen's eye as he spoke. "When I said I was fine, I wasn't exactly lying. I am okay, but I guess that's only because I don't feel anything most of the time. It's like I'm on autopilot. I remember what happened, but it doesn't feel like it happened to me."

Hearing Ianto explain confirmed what Owen had suspected. The worst wasn't over yet. Ianto's mind had created a shield to protect itself from the pain, but that same defense was going to cause him more damage in the end. He needed to let it down, to accept what happened and allow him to help.

But Owen knew he couldn't push him, either. He needed to let him know that he was there for him, and that when the time came, he would be there to help him through it. Guiltily, Owen had to admit to himself that he was relieved that he didn't have to face the challenge of guiding Ianto through the pain just yet; his own pain was still very fresh.

Owen lifted his hand and moved it slowly to rest on Ianto's leg, making sure Ianto saw the movement. "It's normal for victims of trauma to react that way. It's your mind's way of protecting you. It's a slow process to heal after something like this. Like I said before, I'm not dealing that well myself."

Ianto shrugged. "Yeah, I know you're right. It's just when I try and think about the details, it gets overwhelming, hard to breath. I feel like I'm being strangled by a ghost."

"I'm not going to let anything—or anyone—hurt you again, including ghosts. I'm here for you, Ianto. Which honestly, you should feel pretty damn special about because I wouldn't do this for just anyone. You're the closest thing to a real friend I've got."

A small smile played on the younger man's lips. "I must be pretty desperate because I'm starting to think the same way about you."

"We make a fucking pair, huh?"

Ianto snorted. "Yeah, probably the most unlikely pair imaginable."

Owen leant over and grabbed the glass of Ensure from the nightstand, passing it to Ianto. "Well, since we're being all mushy, you think I can guilt you in to drinking this? It's vanilla. I know you thought the thought the chocolate was shit so I had some vanilla delivered this morning."

Ianto nodded, taking the glass. "Thanks, it'll probably still be shit, but I'll give it a try, if only to stop you from whining about eating for a few minutes."

When he was finished drinking, Owen took his glass and left him to his reality shows. Owen put the glass in the dishwasher and stopped at the sink to splash some cold water on his face. Unlike Ianto, his mind hadn't made any walls. In fact, it was tearing the existing ones down.

He leant against the counter, one hand on either side of the sink, hanging his head. He shook his head and wiped his face against his arm. He couldn't stop the memories, the echoing sounds of Ianto's screams. He felt his chest go tight, and he swallowed a painful lump in his throat. His fingers dug against the marble counter as he tried to fight back the tears. It was a losing battle.

A sob broke from his chest and his shoulders shook. Soon, tears were streaming down his cheeks. The stress of the last few weeks consumed him, and he collapsed to the floor, curling in on himself, sobs wracking his body.

He heard a slow, uneven thumping sound and realized that it was the sound of Ianto's hobbled footsteps. Owen tried to collect himself, wiping the heels of his hands against his eyes, but the tears seemed determined to fall. He clenched his fists in frustration and slammed them against the floor.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, and he froze. A second later, another hand was petting his head like someone would pet a cat. A pained laugh bubbled from Owen at the thought. How had the tables turned so? Owen was the one who should be caring for him, not the other way around. But he couldn't resist accepting the comfort. He turned into the touch, letting Ianto soothe him.

There was a pained groan, and then he felt movement behind him, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Owen. Ianto guided him back until Owen's was resting against Ianto's chest. He whispered simple, comforting words against Owen's hair as he held him in his strong grasp, rocking him gently.

The sobs finally stopped and Owen was able to collect himself enough to pull free from Ianto. Owen pulled his shirt up to wipe his face. When he looked at him, he could see the concern in his eyes. Owen felt a need to reassure his friend.

"Thank you. I'm sorry you had to see that. I don't know what came over me."

Ianto pursed his lips and shrugged. "We're friends, right? Don't man cuddles come with the territory?" He smirked, seeming to enjoy watching Owen expression.

Owen scowled. "Yeah, well, I think hug is a better term. It's a little less ..."

The witty bastard smiled. "Less what?"

"Less like something a six year old girl came up with."

Owen stood and helped Ianto to his feet, studying him closely for any signs of pain. "How are you feeling? Are you in pain, dizzy, anything like that?"

He looked like he was about to object and deny being in discomfort, but he stopped and his expression changed. Owen could see the strain the pain was having on him. His shoulders were set tightly now and his lips a tight line.

"I think I may have overdone it a bit," Ianto said, looking as if he was confessing to a murder.

"Come on, then. Let's get you back to bed and get you comfortable."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

It had been three days since Owen's breakdown in the kitchen and neither man had spoken of it. Ianto seemed to know that it wasn't something Owen was comfortable discussing. It was a skill Ianto had perfected, the ability to read nearly anyone, and with the current state of events, Owen couldn't help wishing that he had the same skill because Ianto was impossible to read.

Owen leaned against the doorframe and watched him as he tried on one of the shirts Gwen had dropped off. It was the first time he tried to wear a proper shirt since the incident. He refused Owen's offer of help putting it on, but Owen wasn't comfortable leaving him alone while he tried.

Ianto stood in front of the mirror in Owen's bathroom, looking disgusted. "Why did she pick yellow?"

He shrugged, amused. "She was probably thinking it was cheerful."

"Well, it's not." Ianto turned to Owen, throwing his hand up. "I look like a fucking banana."

The doctor tried to control his amusement at seeing Ianto so flustered, but it wasn't easy. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You don't look like a banana. You're fine. It's not like you need to impress anyone. It's that or purple. I'll ask Tosh to go and pick out some less colorful shirts tomorrow."

Ianto finished buttoning the oversized shirt and pushed past him, heading toward the lounge.

Owen scrubbed a hand over his face and rubbed his brow in frustration. Ianto's mood had been miserable since he woke. Nothing seemed to make him happy. He followed after him and plonked down beside him, throwing his arm over the back of the couch.

Ianto glanced over at the appendage like it had offended him before turning his attention back to the TV.

Owen glanced over at him. "Are you doing all right?"

"I'm just having a bad day."

Owen nodded. "Do you need to talk?"

"No."

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Ianto wasn't fooling anyone. He needed to talk. It was clear he was suffering. Why was it so hard for Ianto to trust him?

Moving stiffly, the younger man stood and tossed the remote to Owen. "I'm going to lie down for a bit."

Owen swung his legs up onto the couch and stretched out. He heard shuffling in the bedroom and then a groan. Owen listened for another moment. When there were no more noises and he knew Ianto was settled, he allowed himself to relax and begin to drift off to sleep.

Owen woke with a start, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His mind was still reeling from the nightmare that woke him. As he came around, the smell of blood lingered like physical presence. It had seemed so real; he was there again, in the factory, listening to the cries of pain. Except they weren't Ianto's, they were Katie's. She was there, begging for Owen to help her, and when he tried to reach her, the straps held him tight. It was like watching her die all over again. There was no words to describe the feeling of helplessness and terror the nightmare caused. He felt physically ill at the pictures his mind had conjured.

Shaking, he pushed himself up. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn't get the images out of his mind. His hand came up to touch his face; he frowned when he saw the slight tremor in his hand. Touching his face, he felt his cheek was damp. He brushed a finger beneath his eye and caught a tear. He hadn't realized he'd been crying.

Suddenly, it all became too much. His stomach lurched and he dry heaved, half falling to the floor. The past and the present blurred together to make a sick new reality briefly in his mind. Ianto's hospital stay overlapped his memories of Katie's. The saddened, lost looks he caught Ianto making when he thought no one was looking blended with the images of Katie as she looked to Owen for help.

He let himself fall the rest of the way to the floor, clenching his fist so tightly trying to forestall the tears that his nails were digging crescents into his palms.

He couldn't save her, even in his dreams.

When Katie had fallen ill, she retreated into herself, the same as Ianto. She had told him early on, when the symptoms were just beginning, that she didn't want to burden him. It took her illness progressing to the point of her not being able to remember his name that she let him help.

Was that what Ianto was doing? Trying not to burden him? He hoped not, but it made sense. That would be something Ianto would do. Although he seemed cool and collected, unfazed by the death and gore they saw at Torchwood, he was a very perceptive and protective person, who would willing suffer to shield someone he cared for from pain.

He rested his forehead against the couch and tried to let his breathing settle. He didn't want Ianto to hear him again. It wasn't Ianto's job to care for Owen.

Why with so hard?

The phone rang, causing him to jump. Blinking, he read the screen: Gwen.

He flipped it open and pushed himself the rest of the way up.

"What's up?"

She explained that UNIT called. They'd secured the area and were sending an escort to retrieve her. She wanted to do a scan of the building using Torchwood tech. Hopefully, it would lead to discovering a bit more about the man that had orchestrated this. Since Port Talbot was almost three hour's drive, she was going to spend the night there and investigate in the morning.

"Is Tosh going with you?"

He heard Gwen sigh. "She says she would rather stay. I don't think she's doing that well."

He frowned. "Why? What's going on?"

"I don't think she's sleeping well. She's constantly on the go, researching, taking things apart. She barely stops to eat."

"I'll give her another call. Just be careful out there, Gwen, and call me if you find anything."

Hanging up, he leaned back against the cushions, folding his hands behind his head. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried about Tosh. She was always so quiet and reserved; it was hard to gauge how deeply something was affecting her. He only knew vaguely of her time in the UNIT prison, but he suspected the care there was less than stellar.

In a way, she was like Ianto. She kept her emotions tucked away, using her computers and scanners as a wall to hide behind. He snatched his phone back from the coffee table and gave Tosh a call. It took a little convincing to get her to leave her work, but she agreed to come.

Owen lay back down and closed his eyes, finishing his nap.

An hour later, there was a knock at door, and Owen walked to it, peering through the peephole. He saw a nervous looking Tosh on the other side. He unlocked the door and gestured for her to come inside.

She smiled weakly and ducked her head as she stepped past him, her hands clasped together tightly around the handle of a shopping bag.

Owen smiled tightly, taking a moment to look her over. There were bags beneath her eyes and there was no hint of color to her cheeks. She looked worn down.

She lifted the bag. "I brought some cheesecake—"

Owen reached for the bag, but Tosh snatched it back. "For Ianto. It's his favorite."

Owen huffed. "Well, if you can get him to a slice of it, I'll owe you one. In fact, I'll do you a favor. I'll set you up with a guy I know from uni. I think you'd like him."

Her gaze flitted to the floor and she shook her head. "Helping Ianto's enough reward, but thank you."

Owen head turned to the side slightly, his eyes narrow. "Well, don't say I didn't try, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. Her lips pressed together in a tight line. "I'm going to go put this in the fridge."

xXx

"Ianto?" Tosh asked softly, not wanting to startle him.

She knocked lightly on the doorframe with one hand as the other balanced two plates.

She could see him lying on the bed, his back to the door. He was wearing a horrific yellow shirt that seemed far too big for him; it hung from him, wrinkled and bunched.

"Ianto, it's me, Tosh. I've brought you some cheesecake."

Ianto made a sound that Tosh took as agreeable and she stepped into the room, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. The bed jostled and Ianto grunted, rolling over and pulling himself to face Tosh.

Ianto raised a brow. "You look awful."

She giggled. "I think that's supposed to be my line."

"Really, Toshiko, you look tired. Have you been sleeping at all?"

She passed him the plate and toed off her shoes, pulling her legs up to sit cross legged beside him. She poked at her cheesecake with the fork. She hadn't thought she was that obvious, but Ianto didn't miss much and he knew her better than most. Every time she did sleep, she would find herself waking up, heart pounding from a nightmare shortly after.

"Tosh?" Ianto asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you were sleeping okay."

She shook her head, tapping her fork against her lip. "It's been hard to relax lately."

Ianto looked at her in a way that made it seem he could look right through her, see through her lies. "You've been having nightmares again."

Tosh stabbed at the cheesecake, sighing. She should have known he'd figure it out. "Yeah, they started that first night in the hospital. They haven't stopped. I've just found it easier to stay busy, you know?"

"You could talk to Owen. I'm sure he could give you something. You need to rest, Toshiko. We need you healthy."

"Thank you, Ianto. You're always looking out for everyone else, but you should be focusing on yourself right now. We need you healthy, too. Owen mentioned that you're not eating."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Of course he did."

"He cares about you." Her voice was matter-of-fact as finished her last spoonful and set the plate down on the nightstand. "He offered me a date if I got you to eat all of it."

Ianto's eyebrows rose. "A date? With Owen?"

"Not with him." She sighed, leaning back on her hands. "With some friend from uni."

"Sorry, Tosh."

"Why? I know he's not interested in me, nothing to be sorry for."

"He's an idiot for not seeing you. You know that right?"

She tried to smile, but she knew from Ianto's face it wasn't convincing. She couldn't keep much from him.

Their friendship had begun after the discovery of Lisa. She'd seen the way he was struggling with the attention it brought to him, spotlighting him and his pain for everyone to see. Tosh made it her goal to befriend him, and through small gestures and simple smiles, she was able to worm her way beneath Ianto's walls. They were able to share without needing more than a roll of the eyes or a shake of the head. Tosh doubted anyone knew had close of friends they'd become.

Ianto smiled weakly and reached over the pillows to stack his plate on Tosh's. He propped himself up on an elbow and held his other arm up. "Come here."

She hesitated for a moment, but then Ianto gave her the puppy dog eyes and she folded. When it came to getting one's way, Ianto was a master.

She shimmied over and curled in next to him. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "Go to sleep, Tosh. I'll be right here if the dreams get bad, promise."

She yawned, her body accepting the idea without hesitation. She was so tired. "Just a quick nap, then."

xXx

Owen paced the kitchen and after an hour, he decided to go see what was going on. Ianto hadn't been in a talkative mood, so it seemed strange that she was still in there. Owen had figured Ianto would snub the idea of eating anything and roll over and ignore her at the first sign that she wanted to talk.

He crept up to the doorway and peered into the bedroom. What he saw surprised him. Tosh was curled up alongside Ianto and they were both sound asleep, plates stacked haphazardly on the nightstand.

He would be lying if he didn't say it bothered him. He thought he and Ianto were friends, close enough to be open with one another, but apparently, they weren't as close as he thought. Ianto had no problem letting Tosh in and leaving him out.

It wasn't that he wanted to be snuggled up with him, but Ianto had flat out refused to let him close enough to comfort him, even though Ianto helped him. And now Tosh was there, taking care of him in a way he couldn't, that Ianto wouldn't let him, and it hurt.

Clenching his jaw, he grabbed his coat and left the flat. He needed a drink.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The pub was quiet, few people venturing out on a weeknight, but Owen was happy to be alone; pulling wasn't even on his mind. The only thing he wanted to do was numb the pain. There was only one other man sitting at the bar.

Not wanting idle chat, Owen took the far stool. Unfortunately, a quiet pub meant there was little to distract him from his thoughts, which as of late, he had plenty of. He could only hope a few drinks would rectify that little problem.

A strange feeling of hurt was working its way through his chest, and he chased it back with a drink.

The slow burn of whiskey soothed his nerves, and soon he was beginning to feel the warmth of the alcohol spread through his body. When his glass was empty, he slid it forward, nodding to the bartender for a refill. A few more drinks and he would be able to forget, even if just for a bit.

He grabbed the drink stirrer from his glass and slipped the end into his mouth. As he chewed it, his mind wandered back to Katie, to Torchwood, and then back to finding Ianto and Tosh snuggled up together. The second the memory of them hit him, he felt a twinge of pain in his chest. It was unexpected and it bothered him. He didn't know why it hurt him so much.

He drained the last of his glass in one long, burning gulp and slammed it back on the bar top. He needed a smoke. Tossing a handful of cash down beside his drink, he headed out the door.

The air was cool and smelled thickly of the exhaust fans of the nearby chip shop. He walked around the corner of the building and leaned against the rough brick wall. Opening his coat, he pulled the pack of cigarettes out, flipping it open. The pack was nearly full, a testament to how little he smoked.

He had never been a heavy smoker, but when the job became too much, stepping out for a fag calmed his nerves. It was a habit he had picked up in med school, of all places. Katie hated it, but after her death, quitting was a promise he could no longer keep.

It was the least destructive method of coping he had, really. His occasional drinking binges were far worse, often leading to some regretful decisions the following morning. The team probably knew about the shit he did, but they never mentioned it. No one mentioned that kind of thing; it would be like throwing stones in glass houses.

Everyone at Torchwood had their own vices. Things they did to relieve the stress. Owen, at one point, was Gwen's release. She needed a person to hold her, listen to her, and take care of her needs. Owen had been happy to oblige. He almost felt guilty about it, _almost_ , but Gwen was a big girl. Risking her marriage was her choice.

Tosh, on the other hand, isolated herself when things became too much. Work was her release, and it was fairly harmless as far as coping mechanisms went.

Jack coped by fucking and drinking and lurking on rooftops. Owen could understand the drinking and fucking, but he didn't quite grasp the rooftop bit. It was odd, but Jack was odd, and it suited him in a way. No one else could really look as impressive standing on ledge than Jack, coat billowing out behind him.

And when it came to screwing, Jack used to go out on the pull more than Owen, but after Ianto's arrival, he seemed to go less and less. By the time of Jack's disappearance, Owen was pretty sure that the two had struck up a partnership of sorts. Not quite a relationship, but more an agreement based on mutual need.

And then there was Ianto. He knew Ianto was just a fucked up as they all were, but he hid it much better. The Welshman had a list of unhealthy coping mechanisms a mile long.

Owen may have been a shite friend at times, but he was a good doctor, a great doctor, and he noticed the little things the others dismissed. Like after the cannibals, Ianto barely pecked at his food. He noticed the slight layer of perspiration on his skin, the way he sipped his water like he was fighting to keep his stomach from lurching up through his throat.

There were other times that he'd noticed things. After Tosh's tryst with the alien and its resulting death, Ianto came into work the next day with a hint of darkness beneath his eyes. It was clear to Owen that the event had affected the younger man nearly as much as it did Tosh, who had retreated into her work.

When Owen saw the slight tremors in his hand when he passed out the coffees, he decided he should step in. He offered Ianto a sleep aid, but he frowned, refusing to accept the offer of help.

It wasn't long after that Owen discovered Ianto's other coping mechanism, something Owen hadn't pictured the uptight Welshman doing. Ianto smoked pot.

Ianto had come back in from the tourist office smelling faintly of a mixture of pot and cigarette smoke. Owen didn't saying about it. It would be hypocritical of him to judge Ianto when he was being far more self-destructive in his own habits.

Owen leaned his head back against the wall and took a long drag, breathing the smoke out in a sigh.

He was just feeling a bit of relief when his phone rang. His relaxed posture went rigid and when he saw it was Tosh, he felt another stab of worry cut straight through him.

"Tosh?"

"Calm down, Ianto." Tosh was speaking firmly. "You there, Owen?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Owen pushed himself off the wall and began jogging toward home.

"Are you all right? Where are you?"

"I went to the pub. I'm fine. Why?"

"Ianto's freaking out. I need you back here now."

"Shit." Owen began running for all he was worth. Thankfully, he only lived a block from the pub, but each step felt sluggish and far too slow. He needed to get back; Ianto needed him.

xXx

The first think Ianto sensed when he began to wake was the warm body pressed against him. His arms wrapped snuggly around it, his face pressed into hair that smelled like lilac. For a moment, in his sleepy haze, he pictured Lisa, but his mind didn't let him hold onto to the fantasy long. His body ached and he wriggled his arms free, blinking and yawning. He smiled. Tosh was still asleep. She looked peaceful. He smiled. It felt good to help someone.

He tried to move himself away without disturbing her. He glanced down at her once he was sitting up; she was still very much asleep. He scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over. Very carefully, he stood and made his way to Owen's closet. He was tired of wearing the god-awful yellow shirt and he didn't care how much pain it cause him, he was changing.

Digging through the heap of clothing Owen had in his closet, he was able to find a simple white undershirt. It was a bit too small, and it would probably hurt like all hell to put on, but he didn't care. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the new one over his head. The snug cotton gripped him tightly and it burned, pressing into the healing wounds of his back.

The dressings had slipped free during his nap and were bunched up awkwardly beneath his shirt. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. When the pain was under control, he walked back to the bed, tossing the horrid yellow shirt in the bin on his way.

He slipped back into the bed, trying not to cause himself more discomfort as he did. He watched Tosh sleep, but soon, she too stirred.

In a very cat-like manner, she stretched, arching her back and curling her toes. "How long were we sleeping?" she asked, yawning.

Ianto ducked his head, looking over at the alarm clock beside the bed. "Just under three hours."

Her eyes went wide. "It only felt like minutes." She pushed herself to sit up beside Ianto.

"That's because you were exhausted."

"I really was," she said, taking Ianto's hand and giving it a squeeze. "Thank you, for this."

"Anytime, Tosh, you know that."

She nodded. "So, how about I repay you with a meal? I made sure to stock the fridge."

"You don't need to do that. I'll be fine, but thank you for offering."

Tosh rolled her eyes and pointed a finger into Ianto's chest. "Don't you start with that again. You need to eat, Ianto. So it's tikka masala or spaghetti bolognaise, but you're eating."

Ianto put up his hands. "All right, I'll take some curry," he laughed.

Tosh hopped up and slid into her shoes. "Do you need help up?"

Ianto shook his head and stood, looking away from her to hide the grimace of pain. His back throbbed. It had nearly been five hours since Owen had given him something for pain. Ianto wasn't used to needing to ask for pain relief; Owen was usually on top of things like that.

"Actually, Tosh," he called after her before she stepped from the room. "Could you help me for a sec?"

Tosh replaced the bandages with fresh ones and secured them in place.

"How's that?" she asked when she was done.

Ianto forced a smile. "Better, thank you."

It wasn't really better. It hurt like all hell, but she didn't need to know that. She had enough to worry about.

He followed Tosh out of the room and then he stopped by the living room. Something just felt wrong. It was a feeling that sent a shiver up his spine.

He looked around. It was dark. The TV was off and the couch was empty, no Owen sleeping fitfully, twisted in his blanket.

Ianto turned an ear to the kitchen. He could hear Tosh, but there no one else, no disgruntled doctor moaning about the lack of sweets in his own cupboards.

Something was very wrong.

"Tosh! Where's Owen!" He was frantically searching the living room for any clue of where the doctor may have gotten off to.

Tosh appeared, looking worried. "What's wrong?"

"Owen, where's Owen!"

Tosh's eyes went wide and she shook her head. "Maybe he's popped down to the hub to get supplies."

"He didn't get to the hub without these." Ianto held up Owen's car keys.

"Calm down. I'm sure everything is fine." She took a step closer, taking her phone from her pocket. "Let me call him before we get too worried."

He could barely her hear through the whooshing of blood in his ears. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it was threatening to tear from him.

Owen was gone. He didn't take his car. Owen didn't walk for recreational purposes. There was only one logical conclusion left to make.

He'd been taken.

Ianto's hands twitched and his breath caught in his throat as he thought of what may be happening to his friend. He needed to do something.

Ianto began to pace, tugging at his hair as he thought. He roared in frustration, his hands balled into fists. He blinked away the tears and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve.

The only thing he could picture was Owen going through what he had. He rubbed his palms against the rough denim of his jeans.

He needed to find Owen. He needed a gun. He moved to the coffee table, dropping to his knees and feeling beneath it.

He could hear Tosh's voice faintly in the background as he felt for the weapon he knew was there. Owen was always prepared; years of working for Torchwood did that to a person.

His fingers brushed over the cool metal and he grabbed it, tearing it from the gaffer tape.

He quickly released the clip and checked for bullets. It was a full clip, ten rounds. He slammed it back in and chambered one. He held the gun tightly, knuckles white.

"Ianto, you need to stop," Tosh said, voice wavering. He had nearly forgotten she was there.

He looked up and saw Tosh holding her hands up in a placating gesture.

He was shaking, vibrating with a mixture of fear and pain. "He's not here, Tosh. He's been taken. We need to do something."

Tosh swallowed, stepping forward. "Did you hear me earlier? I called him. He's okay. He went out. He'll be right back. Please put the gun down, Ianto."

His mind was reeling, unable to accept what she was saying. He stared at her, mouth a tight line and eyes narrowed. His nostrils flaring as he drew heavy breaths. His palms were sweaty and it made the metal feel slick in his hand. It slipped from his grip slightly and over corrected his grasp, jerking his hand upward too quickly, making Tosh yelp in surprise.

Her eyes were watering now. "Please, Ianto. He will—"

The door lock clicked and his attention snapped to it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

A gunshot echoed through the room. Owen ducked automatically, his hand swiftly reaching for his sidearm. Splinters of wood rained down from above his head, the bullet having struck the door frame.

Instinctively, he rushed forward and pushed Tosh down to the ground, keeping her behind him as he faced the tearful, terror-stricken face of Ianto. Owen had been expecting things to be bad, but this wasn't in the many scenarios his mind had conjured up.

Ianto's hands trembled as his face began to twist in pain. The gun slipped from his grip and landed at his feet. Ianto began to stumble back, looking horrified by what he'd nearly done.

Owen ran forward and grabbed the weapon, unloading it and tossing the clip off to the side. He reached back and handed the now empty gun to Tosh, who tucked it into her waistband.

Ianto began to keen, his hands in fists, tugging at his hair. He was shaking his head, murmuring something Owen couldn't quite make out.

"It's all right, Ianto. Everyone's okay," Owen said, holding his hands palms out. His tone was low and gentle, like one would use on a frightened, cornered animal.

Ianto shook his head harder and retreated back until he hit the wall with a thud; his breathing changed, coming in rapid, short breaths. If they didn't calm him down soon, it was likely he would hyperventilate.

Tosh stepped around Owen, walking toward Ianto. The doctor grabbed her arm, trying to stop her, but she pulled free. He glared daggers at her. She looked apologetic but didn't stop. She crept up to Ianto, whispering reassurances as she did. Owen could see Ianto's body go rigid as she got closer. He didn't want to be touched. And Tosh wasn't stopping.

"Tosh, don't," Owen warned.

She looked back at Owen and then to Ianto. The hand she had hovering over his shoulder—ready to comfort him—fell back to her side as she seemed to grasp what Owen meant.

Ianto slid down the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest, like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. It was working. Owen wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and tell him it was all going to be okay.

Tosh hesitated, glancing back at Owen and then pressing forward again. She ducked down, trying to see his face he had tucked into his arms. "Ianto?"

As if to illustrate Owen's earlier point, Ianto cringed back. There was a slight rocking motion to him now that went just a bit slower than his rapid breaths.

Tosh nodded weakly and stepped back to Owen's side.

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze. "Why don't you head out?" he whispered, not wanting to startle. "I'll take care of him."

Tosh pursed her lips, eyes tearing. "I should be here."

Owen shook his head. "Go home and get some rest. Gwen will be calling soon. I'm sure she'll need your input on her findings. You know what she's like with tech."

She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. "You'll call me if you need me?"

Owen nodded. "Promise."

He waited until the door closed and he was sure Tosh was gone before he attempted any movements toward his broken friend, who had pressed himself tightly to the wall, his legs drawn up beneath him and his hands knotted in his hair. He looked like a small, scared child.

Owen walked slowly, making sure his steps were heard as he approached Ianto. He paused when he got within arm's reach and knelt down beside him. Ianto's eyes were closed, but tears were still streaming down his cheeks. His body was shaking with sobs.

This side of Ianto was one that Owen never thought he'd see. The Welshman was so raw, so open, his pain lying out in the open, unguarded. Ianto never broke down. He always held it together when others would break. In the factory, he stayed strong—stronger than Owen—despite the treatment he'd received. He even had the balls to tell the man to fuck off, knowing it would only cause him more pain in the end.

So this was a sharp contrast to the usual stoic exterior he worked so fastidiously to maintain. Owen was getting a glimpse behind the walls that Ianto kept, the walls that had now toppled and crushed the young man beneath in the rubble.

Watching Ianto, Owen slowly shifted his legs until he was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. It would be as easy as reaching out an arm to pull his friend close and into his arms, but Owen suspected it would only make his friend more fearful than comforted.

Ianto's breathing hitched and he let out an agonized groan, shifting like he was in pain.

Shit. Owen checked his watch. Ianto was long overdue for meds.

"Ianto, I'm going to get you something for the pain, all right?"

Owen didn't really expect an answer, so he surprised when Ianto's head moved in a nod.

He went to the bedroom and rummaged through his kit until he found what he was looking for, a vial of morphine and a syringe. It was probably overkill, but Owen didn't want Ianto suffering.

When he returned, he found that Ianto hadn't moved. He was still curled up on himself.

Owen knelt down beside him. "All right, mate, I'm going to lift your sleeve just a bit."

Owen brought one hand up, and taking a deep breath, he moved it forward, bracing himself for any number of possible reactions. He brushed his fingers against Ianto's bicep. Unlike when Tosh had tried to touch him, he didn't flinch or try to pull away. Owen felt privileged that Ianto was letting him close and he let his fingers linger a bit longer than necessary.

He quickly prepped the spot. "Okay, bit of pinch now, ready?"

Ianto's body tensed, but he nodded.

Owen gave the injection as quickly as possible. Ianto didn't move.

Recapping the needle, Owen looked around for a place to toss the used needle. It wasn't like had sharps bins just lying around the flat. Stretching back, he tossed it into a nearby vase that was holding a bouquet of long dead, dusty flowers. He had given them to Gwen the night after they returned from the countryside. She couldn't keep them at home, so Owen offered her to keep them at his flat. He'd intended on throwing them away, but he never had.

He turned his attention back to Ianto, who was beginning to relax. The medication seemed to be easing some of his discomfort.

Owen took his previous position beside him.

Owen sat down beside Ianto as closely as he dared. He didn't want to push his boundaries and the little trust he seemed to have gained.

They sat in near silence. Owen listened to Ianto's breathing; it was slowing from the gasping breaths of before, but it was still a bit too fast.

Chancing his luck, Owen brought a hand up to rest against the nape of Ianto's neck. He began to rub his thumb, back and forth, in a soothing motion. His skin was lightly dampened by sweat and Owen could feel the tension in the muscles of his neck.

"You need to take slower breaths."

Owen began to gently massage his neck, a slow rhythm of squeezes mimicking the pattern of breathing that Owen was hoping to get Ianto to adopt.

Ianto took a stuttering breath and let it out slowly. He turned to look at Owen, his eyes red and cheeks wet from the tears.

Ianto lower lip trembled. "I'm sorry."

Owen's eyes pricked with tears. He shook his head. "Nothing to be sorry for."

"I almost shot you."

"Well, I wasn't too worried. You were always a bit of crap shot."

Ianto tried to laugh, but it came out more as a sob. "I _was_ aiming for you shoulder."

"And this time?" Owen tried to keep his voice light, wanting to keep Ianto talking.

"Not you shoulder. I was aiming for—" He choked back a sob, shaking his head.

Owen reached around and cupped Ianto's warm, damp cheek, guiding Ianto's face to look into his. "I told you it was okay. If anyone owes an apology, it's me. I should have left a note, or better yet, I shouldn't have taken off like I did. I'm sorry."

Ianto shook his head. "It hurts so much, Owen. It never stops. I can't do this anymore. It just hurts too much."

"What hurts?" Owen shifted so he was kneeling, better able to examine Ianto if he needed it.

"You can't fix it. It's not that kind of hurt you can fix. Something happened when we were … I can't." Ianto grabbed at his hair again. "I just want to forget. Why is that so hard?"

"I don't know, mate. But maybe it would help to talk about it."

"I don't know how. When I try, the words aren't there."

Owen's mind was racing, searching for clues in his memories as to what else could have happened. Was it just the torture that made him like this? It would be enough, but Owen suspected there was something more, something far more sinister, and he didn't like where his thoughts took him.

His stomach flipped and he barely restrained his stomach from heaving.

"Ianto," Owen swallowed hard, "would it be all right if I asked you some questions, see if it helps?"

Ianto shrugged.

"If things get too much, I want you to tell me, okay?"

Ianto sniffled and nodded, looking away towards the wall, avoiding Owen's gaze. He wrapped his arms around himself like it was somehow holding him together.

Owen took a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I know it's hard to talk about it, but were you hurt somewhere else besides what I've treated you for?"

A heavy silence hung in the air, and Owen held his breath, watching his friend for any sign of confirmation. When it came, it was so slight that Owen nearly missed it. Ianto had shrugged. The gesture stumped him. The question was a yes or no. A shrug really wasn't an answer.

"All right, can you explain that a bit to me, mate?"

Ianto shook his head.

"Right then, next question," Owen said more to himself than Ianto. "Did you—"

"There wasn't anything you could have done to make it better," Ianto said, surprising him.

Owen doubted that, but he wasn't going to argue. It wouldn't do any good. He still needed to find out just what had happened. Ianto needed to get whatever this was off his chest. The pain from it was literally crippling him.

"Ianto, this is important. I really want you to try and answer this. Did he …" Owen closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. "Did he rape you?"

Ianto tensed and pulled away from Owen, trying to push himself to his feet. "I don't—I can't do this right now. I need to go."

Owen gently put his hand on Ianto's chest and held him in place. "Wait, please talk to me."

"He didn't rape me!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. He didn't. What did he do then?" He kept his hand pressed against Ianto, half comfort, half restraining.

"I wasn't raped! I wasn't!"

"Ianto, you know rape doesn't just mean anal penetration. Any unwanted touch, him forcing you to—"

"Enough, please stop. I said I can't do this right now."

The way Ianto denied it made it seem all that much truer. Owen's heart clenched so tightly in his chest that it hurt to breath. He wanted to leave the flat and pummel anyone, anything that crossed his path. But when he looked at the hurt in Ianto's eyes, he stopped himself. Ianto didn't need to see him freaking out.

He mentally rechecked every detail of their time in the factory, Ianto returning the first time, how Ianto reacted to his touch when he slept on the cell floor, and finally of when he'd been released from the chair and made it to Ianto's side. He could remember the blood, the bruises, his wheezing breaths, but nothing to make him suspect that.

But then he thought back to the sounds, the sounds he'd heard when his eyes were closed, the sounds that had made him retch over his own chest, the sounds that he had tried so hard to dismiss as something else. They were all pieces to the puzzle he didn't want to connect.

He had hoped after seeing Ianto's clothing was still intact, that they had stopped him in time. That the man hadn't had the chance to do more than loosen his own clothing, but now the reality of their failure was sinking in.

Something had happened. Something had happened with Owen there in the room.

Oh god … every one of those noises, the rustling of fabric, the muffled curses.

The room felt like it was spinning. Owen lost the battle with his gut and he ran for the bin, falling to his to knees and heaving. He berated himself for not having put the pieces together sooner.

A warm hand touched his neck and another began making circles on his back. Owen tried to speak, but he choked on a sob. He let go of the bin with one hand and reached back, blindly feeling for Ianto. His hand bumped his leg and he held onto it, needing to reassure himself that Ianto was there.

Finally feeling in control, Owen slumped back against the wall, wiping his mouth. Ianto sat on the edge of the end table, facing him.

They stared at each other for a long while, neither speaking. They both seemed to be studying the other, exchanging without words the pain of what had happened.

"I'm so sorry, Ianto." Owen broke the silence first. "I think I part of me knew what was happening, maybe that's why I closed my eyes." He gazed at the far wall. "I failed you."

Ianto's hands were clasped together in his lap. "You didn't fail anyone, Owen. You saved me. Without you, I'd be dead."

"I let him … If I hadn't … I should have done something, Ianto."

"There was nothing you could do, same as me. I know that. I just need time, so do you. Please, Owen, stop blaming yourself. I don't blame you."

Owen looked at him. The frightened child of earlier had been replaced by a man wise beyond his years. Ianto never ceased to amaze him with his depth. "I really am sorry," Owen said.

"I know, but you don't have to be."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ianto eyes dropped to the floor. "I do and I don't. I guess I feel like if I do, that is will become real. I'll have to accept that it happened, and I don't know if I can do that yet."

"Fair enough, but I still want to check you for STDs. I'm assuming he didn't use protection."

Ianto shook his head. "I don't think he finished. I remember choking. I couldn't breathe and then there were gunshots. After that, everything went black. I must have passed out."

Owen stood and walked to stand in front of Ianto. He slipped a finger beneath Ianto's chin, lifting his head. Ianto raised his gaze to meet his. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve it."

Ianto nodded, trying to look away. "I know."

"I don't think you do. Look at me, Ianto." Owen tugged the Welshman's chin back up, speaking in a firm tone. "You didn't deserve any of it."

"I'm a man," Ianto said, trying to look away. "I should have stopped him. I—"

"Don't, Ianto." Owen caught his chin again. "Don't do this to yourself. You're right. You are a man, and don't you ever think that you are any less of a one for what he did."

Ianto looked up at Owen, tears streaming down his face. "It hurts so fucking much."

"I know it does." Owen wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. "I know."

He rested his cheek against Ianto's head, rocking him gently, holding him tightly to his chest.

Time was lost on them and they stayed like that for what felt like hours. They were both exhausted when the pulled apart.

"Owen?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't tell Gwen or Tosh. I just …" Ianto trailed off.

"No worries, mate. I would never do that to you," Owen assured him. "Now, how about we get you into a better shirt and into bed? I don't know about you, but I'm knackered."

"If you want—I mean, I know the couch is uncomfortable—you could share the bed with me, just for tonight."

Owen smiled, the first real smile in long time. "Sure, let me get changed. I'll be right there."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The light was shining in through the windows, illuminating the tiny motes of dust in the slanted pillars. It was late morning. The bedside clock read 9:30am in bright red, intrusive numbers, forcing the doctor to blink tiredly against them.

His mind was still fuzzy with sleep as he rolled over and pressed his back against the warm body beside him. Though somewhere in the back his mind, a small voice was nagging at him, whispering something about boundaries and Ianto, but for the life of him, in that dreamy state, he couldn't quite decipher what the problem was. Compared to the nights he'd spent sleeping on the couch, back twisted and neck knotted from the awkward angles, this was heaven. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him again, life could wait just a few minutes longer.

The bed shifted and someone grumbled beside him. The little voice in his head became on more of a shout. Owen stretched, forcing himself awake, his back still pressed into a warm, soft body, and for a fraction of a second, he thought that he would open his eyes and see Katie beside him, but then a heavy arm fell across his chest, thumping him hard and nearly knocking the wind out of him. He looked down at it, it was hairy and muscular. Definitely not Katie, then.

He glanced back over his shoulder and a scruffy chin scratched at the back of his neck, his neck that was damp with what he could only presume to be drool.

He and Ianto had been cuddling, not just cuddling, but spooning. That wasn't something that Owen did anymore, not since Katie. He didn't like to be that close. Being close meant being hurt.

He looked down at the arm draped over chest, feeling the tickling of warm breath against his neck. At least it seemed that deep down, Ianto trusted him, and if Owen ignored the slight feeling of unease, it wasn't so bad being close to him.

Twenty minutes passed and Ianto seemed no closer to waking, his breathing was deep and steady. Ianto shuffled, drawing a leg up to rest over the top of Owen's. The voice was back, this time demanding that he move as their new positioning had crossed some invisible line of what was appropriate for friends. Besides that, Owen needed to take a piss.

Sighing, Owen wriggled his arm free from beneath Ianto and carefully extracted himself from the bed. He tucked the covers back down around Ianto, gently as not to wake him. The Welshman groaned and reached out blindly in his sleep; Owen slipped his pillow into his grasp. He clung to it, pulling it close and tucking it beneath his chin. Snuffling once against it, he fell back to sleep, his soft snores gently filling the room.

Owen watched Ianto's chest rise and fall for a few more seconds before his own needs became too much to ignore. Tiptoeing off to the bathroom, he avoided the spots of the floor he knew creaked and turned the door handle slowly to avoid a jostling clunk.

The tiled floor of the bathroom was cold against his bare feet. He took care of his bladder and then moved onto the mirror; a five o'clock shadow had firmly settled over him. Grumbling, he retrieved his razor and lathered his beard, making quick work of the unwanted hair.

His thoughts returned to the sleeping man in the other room.

Sharing the bed hadn't been bad as Owen thought it was going to be, in spite of waking up entangled with one another. They initially had kept to their respective sides, but as soon as sleep took hold, it seemed their bodies had other ideas.

He remembered vaguely waking up a few times during the night, a pair of cold feet pressing into the warm spot behind his knees, a heavy weight draped over his side. It never roused him completely, though.

The other thing that Owen learned from spending the night beside Ianto was how thin Ianto was becoming. His ribs were far too prominent and his collarbone stood out sharply. His shoulders were becoming bony and angled. It was disquieting to say the least.

Ianto had always shrugged off the need to eat in exchange of more pressing matters, though, especially when he was stressed. Owen tried to remember the last real meal he had seen him eat, but he couldn't recall it. There were many small snacks, a few bites here and there, but no actual meals that he took part in.

Owen knew he should've done something sooner, said something before the factory in Port Talbot. He just didn't know at the time how bad things were going to get. There was no way to know that the decision to go to that house in Butetown would change their lives like it had.

Owen went to the kitchen and grabbed the carton of eggs and the shredded cheddar from the fridge and began whipping up an omelet. Just as he poured the egg into the pan, he heard the padding of feet moving across the floor.

"Hey," Ianto said, leaning against the center island, no shirt, hair disheveled, and blinking the sleep from his eyes. "When did you get up?"

"Not long before you." Owen tossed the pan, reaching for the cheese with his other hand. "How are you feeling?"

Ianto shrugged. "A little sore, but I slept well enough, no nightmares for a change."

Owen studied him, trying to see if the younger man recalled using him like a body pillow, but he saw nothing uneasy about his features. So either he didn't remember or he didn't care. Owen felt himself hoping for the latter.

"On a scale, one to ten, where is the pain?"

"Not bad, about a three."

Owen nodded, sliding the omelet onto the plate and passing it to Ianto. "Here you go, mate. Eat up."

"I'm not that—"

Owen stepped around the island and stood directly in front of Ianto, holding a finger to silence him. "I don't want to hear it. You will sit down and you will eat this. And while you're at it, I'm going to get my kit and the scanner."

"I'm really not—"

Owen grabbed the plate, set it down, and pushed Ianto onto one of the stools. "If you don't eat, I'm going to shove a tube up your nose and down your throat."

Ianto looked at him challengingly. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would, and I will if you don't start eating." Owen crossed his arms over his chest. "Right now."

Ianto relented and began to peck at his food, breaking the egg into tiny pieces before finally bringing the fork to his mouth. Owen watched him eat as he unpacked his kit, laying everything out on the counter that he needed. He could feel Ianto's gaze on him.

"What are you doing?"

Owen looked over his shoulder, his brows pinched together. "You're not eating."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to shovel it into my mouth, Owen."

"Maybe you should; it would keep you quiet."

Ianto stabbed at the plate, making a harsh scraping noise. "See, I'm eating, happy?"

Owen grinned. "Very."

He walked around to Ianto's side, holding up the scanner. He watched the screen intently, studying the pictures it supplied. His ribs were healing nicely, but the scar tissue on his back was extensive. All but a few of the burns were completely healed.

"I'm going to peel off the bandages and check those burns. The scanner is showing some pretty deep scarring on the right side."

"Why does that not sound good?"

"It isn't anything to worry about, and it shouldn't hurt much to check. I'll be quick."

Owen slipped on a pair of gloves while Ianto slid his plate away; it was still half full, but Owen let it go for the moment. Ianto's stomach was going to need time to familiarize itself with food again before he was eating a regular diet.

He felt around gently and was able to confirm the scanners findings, some of the scar tissue begun to form adhesions. It would limit his range of motion if they didn't begin some treatment soon. Simple massage would help keep the fibrous tissue from sticking and binding to anything lying underneath it.

"I want to get you down to the hub soon. I still need to run a few tests, but things are looking good." Owen flipped off his gloves and sat down on the stool beside him. "To avoid adhesions from the scar tissue, we'll need to start working them every day, just light massage to keep them moving."

"What about my ribs?"

"They're healing, so are the bruises. Besides the weight, you're starting to look like your old self."

"So can I go back to work?"

Owen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I would rather see you here for another week, at least. There are a lot of thing we should talk about before you go back to work."

Ianto looked away. "I know, but I need this. I need to be doing something." He turned Owen, look utterly pathetic. Owen suspected Ianto knew exactly what he was doing.

"Ianto, you are such a pain in the ass sometimes." Owen ran his hand through his hair.

"Please, Owen. Don't make me beg."

Owen huffed. "Fine, you can go back to work."

"Thank you," Ianto said, looking genuinely relieved.

"Come on, let's go see what's happening in the world of reality TV."

As soon as they reached the living room, Owen's cell rang.

"Hello, Gwen," he greeted.

Gwen said she was back at the hub with Tosh going over the findings. She had found an energy signature that closely resembled what they had on record for Jack's wriststrap.

"We'll be in later today to give you a hand," he said, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

He heard some papers shuffling in the background. "Wait, what do you mean, 'we'll be down later? Who's 'we'?"

"Ianto and I are going to hub this afternoon. He's coming back to work." Owen explained matter-of-factly.

There was a crash. "Are you insane, Owen?"

"No, he's going to be working, light duty." He held the phone away from his ear dramatically while she finished explaining all the reasons Ianto was unable to return to work.

When the distant chattering stopped, Owen brought it back to his ear. "I am sure everything you just said made perfect sense to you—"

"Owen, he's—"

"Fine, and last time I checked I was still his doctor, so I can right well say if and when he is able to return to work or not—" he looked to Ianto, who smiled—"and like I said, he isn't really working as much as hanging out and filing reports."

"You know him, Owen. He'll over-do it."

"And if he does, we'll all be there to slow him down. He can't just sit around all day left to his own thoughts. It's not healthy."

The chattering started again. He picked out a few choice words here and there, as well as a few threats.

Owen motioned to the phone, rolling his eyes, and Ianto chuckled, still flipping through the channels.

"Fine, but if he gets hurt," her voice was dead serious, "I swear to you, I will string you up by your balls so high that—"

An alarm sounded in the background cutting her off, and he could hear Tosh calling Gwen over.

"What's going on?" he asked.

There was a muffled curse and the sound of feet hammering across the metal grating of the hub floor. "Hang on, Owen. Give me a sec."

Owen's face became serious. "Tell me what's happening."

There was a relieved sigh on the other end. "It's nothing, just some rift activity in Splott. Tosh is checking the police scanner now." She paused; Owen could make out the scratchy sound of the radio in the background. "Apparently, a blowfish has stolen someone's car."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The cool, damp air caressed him as he began the final leg of his journey home. The streetlights gave a warm, orange glow to everything in their reach, and the slight smell of ozone tickled his nose.

Jack was home, back in Cardiff and counting the steps until he could greet his friends again.

It had been the longest, yet shortest, year of his life. The Master had said that his simple existence made his brain itch and his jaw ache; he called him a freak, an abomination that needed to be ended. But when Jack wouldn't stay dead, the Master's interest piqued. It became something of a game for the Time Lord, testing Jack's limits, seeing how far he could go before he would succumb.

He would dread the first moment of pain and then come to beg for the next as it would bring him closer to the end, and death always came, warm and inviting, wrapping him in a blanket of darkness before it would be torn away. He would awake to the cold, harsh world and collapse in his chains, knowing that the next round of pain was only hours away. Closing his eyes, he would think back to all those he'd loved and those he still did. It was how he passed the time while he waited for the next encounter with the Master or his crew, as he waited for the next painless moment of warmth just before the darkness would begin to swallow his vision. He began to live for those moments, the moments of comfort, because that was all he had.

There were times that the Time Lord spoke to Jack, hovering over his bleeding body, whispering nonsense. There were times that Jack thought that he heard remorse in his tone, like maybe he wasn't as much of a monster as he was trying to be. But those moments meant nothing in the end, because in the end, the Master was a monster and Jack was his prey.

A shiver ran through him at the memories.

He jogged toward the lift, his coat billowing out behind him, but he couldn't escape the haunting memories that lingered, following only a step behind. He wondered if he would ever be free again, if the sounds of metal clinking and tools jostling would ever cease to make jump.

He pushed back the images and moved forward, holding the love for his team close to him like a shield against the dark. He missed them all and hoped none of them had changed.

He'd spent each day recounting every detail, every idiosyncrasy they had. Tosh and her nervous glances but incredibly brave soul, willing to condemn her life for the people she loved. Owen and his hard exterior, trying to hide how broken he was, even though sometimes it was blaring clear. Gwen, the heart, the innocent life that had wheedled its way into the darkness of Torchwood, always wanting to right every wrong though it was impossible to do so. Jack knew that someday, she too, would break and become hardened; he just hoped she hadn't yet.

And then there was Ianto, the man that held a part of Jack that he didn't realize he'd given away. His loyalty was fierce and his ability to love was unparalleled. Jack regretted not treating him better in the time they were together and he wanted nothing more than to do things right now that he was back. He had a second chance at things and he wasn't going to screw it up.

When the lift descended, Jack didn't know what he was expecting to see, but he was fairly certain an abandoned, dusty hub wasn't one of them. It didn't look like they had cleaned in weeks. His brow furrowed. Ianto, or even the team in general, wouldn't normally allow things to go this far. He tried to dismiss the growing ache of concern and focus on finding something that would tell him where they were.

He poked through the papers that littered Toshiko's desk. There were crumbled notes and diagrams scattered about, most dated within the day. He punched his code into the computer, relieved to find it still active.

Scanning through the logs, he saw that there was an open entry from earlier that day. They were on the job, and from the looks of things, they were chasing down a car thieving blowfish.

xXx

Owen pushed the gas pedal to the floor, trying to ignore Gwen's protests as the rounded the corner.

"Owen! This is not taking it easy!" She grabbed at the handle above the door.

"Really, Gwen, I'm not going that fast."

"The hell you aren't!" she said. The engine roared as Owen pushed the SUV faster. "All I'm saying is, you are speeding and there are children."

"Well, if kids are out at midnight, they've got it coming."

Tosh leaned forward, GPS gripped in one hand the other steadying herself on the back of Owen's seat. "Take a left up here. We should head him off."

Owen gritted his teeth. "Hold on." He yanked the wheel, sending the car skidding sideways through the intersection.

Ianto made a noise close to a whimper, the jostling movement causing his back to slam into the seat. Owen slowed the car, but the damage was done. He had caused Ianto more pain.

"Shit, are you all right, mate?" Owen asked, glancing over at him. He was already slowing the car, ready to end the chase.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ianto straightened himself. "Keep going."

Owen nodded, returning his focus to tail lights in the distance. They had nearly closed the gap. It wouldn't be much longer.

As they approached, Owen reached down with one hand and unfastened his seatbelt while the other hung on to the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road. "Hold the wheel," he commanded.

"Owen," Ianto warned from the back.

Owen rolled his eyes and continued pushing himself up in the seat. "Relax, Gwen's got this." He nodded to the wheel.

"Don't you dare, Owen," she warned, scrabbling to get a grip on it.

"Just hold the damned wheel!" He pushed himself up, cocking his gun.

When he was sure Gwen had it, he climbed out the window to sit on the edge.

Owen could faintly hear Gwen's curses as she struggled to keep the SUV on the road. It jerked hard, nearly causing him to slip from the edge he was precariously balanced on.

"Keep it steady, would you?" He glanced down into the window to peer at Gwen. Her face was scrunched in concentration and her lips pursed.

She chanced a look in his direction, her eyes narrowed at him. "Shut it, Owen."

Smirking, Owen returned his attention to the car in front of them. It was close. He leaned out as far as he dared and aimed. The first two shots missed, ricocheting off the rear of the car. The third shot caught the tire, sending the car swerving briefly into the other lane.

"Jesus, Owen! You could have gotten us all killed," Gwen snapped as Owen climbed back into his seat.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but look at the bright side," he smirked, "he's stopping."

Owen pulled the SUV to a stop behind the car. The blowfish was already entering the neighboring house.

He turned to Ianto, watching him carefully as stood. It was clear that Ianto had overdone it. One hand was clenched in a fist and the other was rubbing his side. Shit.

He moved to his side, a hand instinctively moving to touch him, to reassure himself that he was okay. He turned to meet Ianto's gaze. "Ianto, are you all right?"

"My ribs hurt some, but nothing I can't handle."

Owen shook his head. "Shit, I knew this was a bad idea."

"Owen, look at me. I'm fine. I can do this. Let's go."

Owen nodded, hand gripped tightly on his gun. "Okay, Gwen, you go left. Tosh, go right. Ianto you're with me."

xXx

Jack was able to track down the SUV to a residential neighborhood in Splott. He jogged up to scene, taking in the rushed way the SUV was parked and the red car was half parked on the lawn. He touched the hood; it was still hot. Looking around, he saw what looked like a bullet hole in the rear tire of the sports car. Immediately, Jack drew his weapon and skirted around the back of the house.

The backdoor was locked, but it gave way to a firm push from his shoulder. He crept through the backroom and into the hall as quickly as he could without making a sound.

As he got closer, the commotion coming from the front room became clear.

"—which leaves me with the Office Boy, promoted beyond his measure. All of you ... lost without your master. All of you ... pretending to be so brave. All of you, so scared."

At the mention of calling Jack their master made his stomach clench into knots. The memories were still fresh and the wounds raw. He wasn't sure that he would ever be able to hear that word without some emotion attached.

He made his way to the front sitting room. He stopped just short of the door and leaned his back against the wall. The team was only steps away now. He wanted to go to them, but his feet were rooted in the spot. His heart pounded as he listened to the blowfish taunt them.

"So, what about it, minion?" the fish jeered. He heard Ianto suck in a breath. Jack imagined Ianto to be standing, gun drawn, looking fierce. He was always a force to be reckoned with when challenged. Jack was well aware. He learned a lot about Ianto after finding Lisa in the basement.

The blowfish chuckled. "Can you do it? How good are you?" he sneered. "How sharp is your aim? What if you kill her?"

Jack heard shuffling and he turned his body enough to peek around the corner of the doorway. The blowfish had a woman pulled tightly against him, his gun pressed against her head. He was going to need to make his move soon. He tried to move enough to see the others but he couldn't without being seen.

"What if I kill her first?" the blowfish continued. "Can you shoot, before I do? Can you? Dare you? Would you? Won't you?"

Jack saw his opening and stepped forward, placing a bullet neatly in the center of the blowfish's forehead. The woman he was holding screamed as he fell to the floor with a thump. She ran from the room, nearly tripping over her own feet as she did.

A wide smile spread across Jack's face. "Hey kids. Did you miss me?"

He looked over at his team for the first time, and his smile fell from his lips. They weren't the same. There was something very wrong, very different, about them.

Ianto wasn't looking confident or a force to be reckoned with, he looked thin and frail, broken even. His hands were clenched in fists at his side. There wasn't a hint of relief on his features. It was like Jack wasn't even there, like he was no different than a stranger in his eyes.

Seeing him studying Ianto, Tosh stepped in front of him and pushed him back behind her, her face tight and jaw set firmly.

"Jack," she greeted him curtly.

His brow furrowed and he frowned. "Toshiko."

He looked around the room, stopping first at Gwen and then Owen, who was flipping his gloves off onto the floor. Whoever he had been working on was dead.

Owen stood, walking over to stand beside Toshiko. Jack didn't miss the look he gave Ianto and the soft expression of acknowledgment that Ianto gave him in return.

The four of them stood together, a picture of anger, pain, and regret. It was not how Jack imagined it to be.

Before he could get another would out, Owen nodded to the door. "Come on, guys, we're done here."

Jack watched them file out, mouth agape and heart breaking.

Ianto nodded as he passed. "Sir."

Jack reached out to grab Ianto's arm, but Gwen stopped him. "Don't," she warned. "I don't know what's happened to you, or where you went, but I know what we've been through and you don't have a right to come waltzing back in here like the hero. Not now. There are things you need to know before you try and join this team again. Things have changed."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Let's go, Gwen."

"I said I'd be right there, Owen," she called back to him, annoyance coloring her tone.

She heard a huff and the door slammed shut, leaving her alone in the hallway with Jack. She didn't need to see Owen to know that he was livid.

Jack stood in front of her, feet set slightly apart and arms crossed over his chest, concern etching his features.

She drew a breath, letting it out slowly as she ran her hand through her hair, unsure how to begin. Jack needed to be told certain things; it was imperative to their safety, but she didn't want to break the team's trust by divulging too much, and to be honest, there was still a lot she didn't know.

"Gwen?" Jack's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Huh?" She looked up, rubbing her palms over the rough denim of her jeans. "Right, we need to talk." She began pacing the small area, Jack's gaze following her back and forth.

Jack reached out and grabbed her elbow, bringing her to a halt. "Would you stop? You're making me dizzy."

She shook off his grasp. "That. That is what we need to talk about."

"What?"

"You just—you just can't go grabbing people whenever you feel like it, _especially_ Ianto."

Jack pursed his lips, his eyes tight and his head slightly turned to the side. "Why especially Ianto?"

Gwen felt a pang of guilt. She had already crossed the line of too much information. Part of her wanted to tell him everything and beg him to fix it, but she knew she couldn't, not without talking to the others first.

"Look, Jack. I can't tell you everything, but I can tell you that the Ianto you knew before, well, he's not the same man now."

"That didn't answer my question, though. What happened to you, to all of you? You all look so tired." He reached up and cupped her face, rubbing his thumb over her cheek. "Please, Gwen, I need to know."

She shook her head, taking Jack's hand down from her face and holding it between her own. "I'm sorry, Jack. It's not my place."

"Then should I be talking to Ianto instead."

Gwen pressed her hand to his chest. "No, you can't. It will only make things worse."

"Then just tell me what happened."

She took breath, letting it out slowly. "While you were gone, someone came looking for you. When he couldn't find you, he came after us. We didn't know where you were, and even if we did … you left us, Jack. With no way of contacting you."

"Who came looking?"

"We don't know. It's not like he left us a card, Jack. We only found an energy signature, similar to your wriststrap."

Jack frowned, but nodded for her to continue. "And Ianto?"

She shook her head. "You're going to have to wait for him to tell you, and if he doesn't want to talk, you're going to have to accept that."

The door creaked open and Tosh poked her head in. "Gwen, Owen sent me over, the body is loaded and the police are on the way." She glanced at Jack, hesitating. "We really need to go. Ianto and Owen are already in the SUV." She gave Gwen a pointed look.

Gwen looked to Jack, smiling wanly. "I assume you'll be able to handle the rest without us?"

He nodded. "I'll see you back at the hub. Have Toshiko get together everything she has on that energy signature. I want it on my desk when I get back."

xXx

Ianto could feel their eyes on him as he sat in the backseat, staring out the window as Tosh drove them back to the hub. He felt like he was in a daze, like reality had just blurred into a dream. Before Jack had left, they had a budding relationship of sorts, but it never really came to fruition. It never really had time. Then Jack left. Ianto would be lying if he said it didn't hurt, because after the kiss they shared when Jack had reawakened, he thought things were changing, that maybe they were on the path to something more.

Jack leaving broke his heart a little, but Jack staying away, never calling, never making the slightest contact, crushed it.

At first, he hadn't coped well, but eventually he fell back on his old habits, delving into his work and pushing his own needs to the side. He'd had it all under control until they were called to the house in Butetown.

With what they had all been through now, Ianto wasn't sure he could ever let someone close again, and Jack, if anything, was a very close, tactile person. His presence alone invaded your space, his scent drawing you in; it was a closeness that Ianto didn't think he could handle. The thought alone made his heart hammer in his chest and his throat feel like it was closing.

A warm hand touched the nape of his neck. He tensed for a second before he recognized the rough, calloused hands as Owen's.

The doctor worked his fingers in tiny circles, rubbing the growing tension from his neck.

He rested his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. His eyes began to tear, and he found himself fighting back a sob. The rest of the ride went by in a blur.

When they reached the hub, Owen guided him down to the medical bay, walking him over to the autopsy table and pushing him down by the shoulders to sit on the edge.

Ianto kept his gaze down on the floor, only catching glimpses now and again of Owen's feet as he pottered about.

His head was pounding in rhythm with his heart, like the horrible memories were trying to claw their way to the surface, forcing themselves to be seen.

Owen's feet appeared in his line of sight again; this time they came closer, coming a to stop in front of him. Ianto couldn't help but notice that Owen really needed to get new sneakers. He was fairly certain that there were at least two different varieties of alien goo on the right one alone.

The pounding seemed to pick up its pace and his stomach clenched. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his hands tightly around the metal edge of the table.

He heard a heavy sigh and he looked up. Owen had his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his white coat. His scrutinizing gaze locked on Ianto.

"My head hurts," Ianto confessed without needing to be asked. "And I'm a little nauseous."

"Yeah, it doesn't surprise me any, with all the shit going on. How are your ribs and back?"

"Sore."

"I figured as much. Let me give you something for your head and it should help with the rest as well."

Ianto nodded, wincing at the pain the motion caused.

Ianto watched Owen rifle through the cabinet until he seemed to find what he was looking for and shoved it into his pocket.

"Owen?"

"Yeah," Owen glanced over his shoulder at Ianto. "What's up? Do you need the bin?"

"What?"

The doctor turned around, looking Ianto over. "The bin, are you going to be sick?"

"No," Ianto waved him off, "I was just—it's nothing, never mind."

"You can talk to me, Ianto."

"It's just I've been remembering some things I'd rather not. You know …" he trailed off, hoping Owen would put it together. "It never goes away."

Owen sighed, closing the distance between them. "Listen, what happened to you, including that, it's not something that you're going to forget, but through talking about it, it can get easier. It _will_ get easier."

"You can't know that."

He sat down beside him. "I can because I helped Katie through it."

"Owen, you never said—when?"

"Three months before I met her. I used to wonder if I had met her sooner, if it still would have happened. If I had just made the decision to turn left inside of right, would I have seen her walking out of the bookstore, met her before she could meet him? I used to drive myself crazy thinking about all the ways I could have saved her."

"You said it used to, what changed?"

"I guess I helped her and she helped me. There was a lot of crying and even more anger, but eventually things got better. She learned to live again, and so will you."

"I don't know how."

"You don't have to."

Owen reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. "These are a pretty heavy pain killer; it's something Suzie and I were working on." They rattled as he tipped two into his hand. "They'll take away the pain and make you a bit loopy for a while, maybe help you get some rest, too, if you want them."

He held them out to Ianto, who took them without hesitation. He didn't care what they were as long as they stopped the pain.

"I had some water and biscuits for you to take those with."

He shrugged. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not." Owen walked over to his desk and grabbed a bottle of water and the small packet of biscuits. He handed them to Ianto, his expression leaving little room to protest. "Eat, please. It's not good to take those on an empty stomach."

Begrudgingly, Ianto began to nibble on one. By the second, he was beginning to feel the pills working. His body felt lighter and his thoughts felt distant. Whatever they were, they made the pain stop, both physical and emotional.

Ianto blinked tiredly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, now why don't you lie down on the nice bed and take a nap while I check over your test results from this morning?"

He looked beside him and saw that the autopsy table was now adorned with a pillow and blanket.

"When did you—"

"Don't worry your little head about it, just lie back and take a nap. We'll be heading home soon. We can talk all you want then."

xXx

Owen stood beside Ianto, stroking his hair until he fell into a deep sleep. The test results had all came back clear. Ianto was going to be all right.

The proximity alarm sounded and Owen looked up. A wave of rage spread through him when he realized who it was. Jack was back.

Giving Ianto one last glance, he charged up the stairs.

Jack was just stepping in through the entryway when Owen approached.

"Hi, Jack!" Owen smiled as he slammed his fist into the captain's face, sending him reeling backwards.

The pain in his hand from connecting with his bony jaw only served to enrage him more. He roared as he charged forward again. This time Jack was ready for him, blocking his swing and landing a blow of his own. Owen pushed forward, trying to knock Jack to the floor.

Jack finally caught Owen's arm and twisted enough to bring the doctor down to his knees. Owen howled in pain as Jack wrenched it further back behind him.

Owen's chest heaved as he tried to continue to struggle. The blood pooled in his mouth and he spit it onto the grating. Jack had split the inside of his bottom lip; he could already feel it swelling.

Panic began to spread through him at being confined and he thrashed harder against Jack, who in turn used his other hand to push Owen's head down to the floor, effectively pinning him down.

"You need to calm down, right now." Jack breathed on the back of his neck, sending a shiver through him.

Owen tried to form a response, but his mouth had gone dry. He tried to slow his breathing, his chest heaving irregularly as he tried to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body was tight and beginning to knot, his body having gone completely rigid with fear from an attacker who wasn't there.

Jack's forearm pressed into the back of Owen's neck. "Stop fighting me, just relax and I will let you go."

"Get off him right now, Jack." Gwen commanded, stepping into view, her gun trained on Jack, Tosh at her side looking nearly as fierce. "Don't doubt me, Jack. I will pull this trigger."

Owen felt Jack shift above him, and then the pressure was relieved. He pushed himself up on his forearms, keeping his head down as he tried to steady himself.

His body vibrated with a mixture of fear, anger, and shame. He wasn't supposed to fall apart; he was supposed to be the strong one, not Jack. He was supposed to be the one they could depend on, the protector, and all he could do was lie there while Jack held him captive. It was like going back in time, like reliving the feelings of helplessness all over again.

"You can put the gun down, Gwen." Jack's voice was unnervingly calm.

"As soon as you take a seat over there." Owen looked to see Gwen motioning to the old sofa.

Once Jack was sitting, Gwen took her gun down and Tosh rushed over to his side, kneeling down beside him.

"Are you okay?" she whispered to him.

Owen nodded. "I'm fine."

He pushed himself the rest of the way up, Tosh kept her hand on his back as he stood. He rubbed his jaw, opening and closing it, accessing the damage as he did. He hands shook and he clenched them into fists, trying to hide how shaken he was.

"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Jack asked.

Owen turned, his anger boiling to the surface again. "Fuck off! If you really wanted to know, you would have been here when it happened."

"Owen," Gwen warned.

"I am getting damned tired of the games. Someone needs to tell me what happened, and they better do it now!"

A heavy silence hung in the air, no one moving. Jack looked between them, his lips a tight line and his eyes unblinking. The team exchanged glances; Owen nodded, and together they turned, walking away and leaving Jack sitting alone on the dingy sofa.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Jack's nerves were just beginning to settle when the girls reappeared. He immediately noticed that their expressions were much softer than they had been before. He gave them a hesitant nod, watching their reactions carefully. Toshiko, who was carrying a large pile of folders, looked down, a slight smile on her face. Gwen nodded to him in and stepped forward, handing him one of the coffees she had balanced in her hands.

"I warn you, it's not as good as Ianto's."

Jack took a sip. 'It's perfect, Gwen. Thank you."

They both took a seat on the sofa, one on either side of him, much to his surprise.

"So this is everything," Toshiko said, setting a pile of folders and papers down on the coffee table in front of Jack. "If you look at this here," she reached forward grabbing the first folder and flipping it open. "You'll see the comparative analysis between the two energy signatures. They're an eighty three percent match. They might be even closer, but the sample was degraded, so there is a margin of error."

Jack took the folder and pulled out the graph, his brow furrowed as he studied it. She was right. It was a near match. Whoever this was, they had future technology.

Gwen leaned forward, her forearms resting on her knees. "Jack, do you have any idea who could have done this?"

"I have some ideas, but I can't say for sure. I'll need to read over the rest of the reports. Hopefully I'll be able to find a connection somewhere. He tossed the first file back on the table. "It would be easier if I had more details to go on, though."

Gwen averted her gaze. Jack could see that she was struggling with not telling him.

"Gwen?" he gently reached out and took her hand.

She shook her head. "Don't, Jack."

Toshiko slapped her legs and stood, smiling a bit too widely. "Well, I'm starving. Is anyone else hungry? I was thinking Chinese."

Gwen took the break in conversation to shake her hand free. She stood up, grabbed her coffee, and disappeared back towards the boardroom.

Jack flipped the file closed, smiling back Toshiko. "Sure, Chinese sounds great. Haven't had it in ages."

Toshiko took his order and then disappeared up to the boardroom.

Jack tossed his papers to the side. He quickly glanced around the hub; he could see Gwen and Toshiko having a discussion up in the boardroom. He couldn't read their lips, but he could tell it was heated.

Jack needed to see Ianto, even if only for a second. The way Ianto looked at the house had frightened him. There was an emptiness in his eyes that had cut straight through Jack. The strong, confident man of before was gone, having been replaced by someone completely different, and he needed to know why.

Walking over to the rail, he peered down into the medical bay. His was expecting to see Ianto awake, maybe bickering with Owen, or working on reports, but what he saw shocked him. Ianto was laid out on the bed, covered in a blanket, sound asleep. But that wasn't the most shocking part; it was who was sitting beside him, holding his hand, head resting on the Welshman's arm. Owen and Ianto were sleeping, and not just sleeping, but touching. It was as if a black hole had opened up and swallowed Jack whole, spitting him out into an entirely different reality.

When he'd left, Owen and Ianto were far from friends; enemies would almost have been a more suiting term. They were constantly at each other's throats. Ianto had even shot the Londoner.

As he watched them, a pang of jealousy cut through is chest. He wanted to be the one touching Ianto. Jack had given him a piece of his heart, and it hurt seeing that Ianto had let it go and moved on to someone else. His fingers clenched the around the railing and he closed his eyes, wishing that when he opened them again that this would all be some awful dream.

He hated that they had changed, become so hardened in his absence. It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to return to find his team together, happy and strong, the way he'd left them.

A soft sigh pulled him from his thoughts. He turned, leaning back on the railing. Gwen was standing beside him.

"Hey, there," Gwen said softly. "How's the chin?"

"He's got a killer right hook."

Gwen hummed her agreement. "Tosh and I will be popping out soon to go grab the food. Not sure why you needed to order from Mr. Wong's, though. The usual place is pretty good."

Jack knew exactly why, not that he was saying. Mr. Wong's was fifteen minute drive both ways, buying him at least a half an hour alone with Ianto and Owen.

She sighed, leaning against the rail. "He doesn't hate you, you know. He just needed to blame someone. Although, I doubt he'll apologize anytime soon."

"How long have they been together?"

Gwen laughed. "Who? Owen and Ianto? They're not together, Jack."

"Really? I mean, they're holding hands and Owen's using him as a pillow."

"No, they're close, but not like that." She paused. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Tosh and I were talking, and we think you need to know. When they were taken," she stopped, taking a breath, "they weren't just interrogated, Jack. They were tortured."

Gravity felt like it shifted; his stomach knotted and he felt a sudden wave of nausea. A thousand scenarios flooded his mind, each worse than the last. He turned, hands gripping the railing. This time when he looked down on them he saw them it in a different light.

He saw two men clinging to each other for comfort in the aftermath of something they should have never gone through. The pieces to the puzzle began to shift and slip together, making a gruesome picture of misunderstanding and regret.

It all made sense, Owen's anger and protectiveness, Ianto's frail appearance, Gwen's previous warning about touching, it all clicked into place.

He looked down at the Welshman, his throat growing tight. Whatever had been done, Ianto had received the worst of it. Which of course he would have. Ianto was strong; breaking him would have been any interrogators first priority.

Gwen placed her hand on his back. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It should have been me."

xXx

Ianto woke to a warm, damp sensation on his arm. He shifted, quickly realizing that it was Owen's drool which had caused it. He cringed, yanking his arm free and shoving the doctor's head back. He looked at his arm in disgust. "Lovely."

Owen scrubbed his hands over his face, yawning. "How was the nap?"

"Would be better if I didn't wake up with your saliva coating my arm."

Owen rolled his eyes as he stood. "Excuse me for taking a kip."

Ianto brows knit together in concern. "Why is there blood on your shirt?" he asked, seeing the bright red spots for the first time. He glanced to Owen's face, looking for the source. His bottom lip was slightly swollen and there was a small cut peeking out from the inside edge. "Are you all right?"

He tossed off the blanket and hopped down off the table, his hand immediately going to touch Owen's face. He ran his thumb lightly over his lower lip. "Jack did this."

"Sort of, but it wasn't unexpected, given I punched him first."

His hand fell from Owen's face. "You didn't?"

The doctor shrugged. "I've got some anger management issues."

Ianto sighed. "Where is he now?"

"Lurking about upstairs. He hasn't dared come down here yet."

There was a knock and they both looked up towards the sound. Jack was standing at the top of the steps, knuckles still resting against the wall. "Hey," he said softly.

Owen stepped forward, putting himself in front of Ianto. "What do you want, Jack?"

Jack blinked, frowning. "I just wanted to come check on you, make sure you were all right."

"We're both fine. You can go now." Owen crossed his arms over his chest.

Jack nodded, looking hurt. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry, and if either of you need to talk, I'm here for you." He turned to leave, but Ianto stopped him.

"Wait," Ianto said. "You don't have to go. I mean—you have as much right to be here as we do."

Owen glared daggers at Ianto. "What are you doing, Ianto?"

"I just—I can't blame him," he glanced at Jack. "I don't have the energy."

Jack gaze flitted between Owen and Ianto, like he was assessing some hidden danger.

Owen pointed a finger at Ianto. "This is the last time I give you the good shit. It's obviously impairing your judgment. And you," Owen pointed at Jack, "need to get the fuck away from him, and you," he pointed at Ianto again, "need to sit down and shut up before you say something stupid."

"Owen, I'm fine. I'm not under the influence of anything."

Owen turned, so he was toe to toe with Ianto. "Look, I know you think you're ready, but—"

"Owen, I'm all right."

Owen huffed. "Fine, you know what?" he snapped. "Do what you want. I'll be upstairs. Holler when you need someone to put you back together."

Ianto inwardly cringed as he watched Owen charge up the staircase, shoving his way past Jack. He knew how important it was to the doctor to be needed. It gave him purpose, a reason to keep going. Ianto didn't want to take that away from him.

"Sorry," Jack stuffed his hands into his pocket. "I didn't mean to cause you more problems."

"You didn't. Owen's just being Owen."

"Is it okay if I come down there?"

Ianto shrugged. "It's your hub, sir."

"That's not what I was asking," Jack said, walking down a few steps.

Ianto's heart began to race as Jack drew closer. He swallowed, feeling the panic building. He tried to clamp down on it. If he couldn't face Jack, he wouldn't be able to face anything else. As far as his problems went, Jack should have been the least difficult to face.

The captain frowned, his gaze flitting over Ianto's form. "Do you want me to leave?"

He shook his head. "No, stay."

"I don't want to hurt you." Jack hesitated.

"I'm okay." It wasn't true; he was far from okay, but he needed to be. He needed to prove to himself that he could do this.

He walked the rest of the way down the stairs, coming to a stop at the bottom. He paused, his gaze locked on Ianto.

This Jack was different, more cautious than the one that had shot the blowfish. This Jack seemed to be doing everything in baby steps, careful and calculated like he expected Ianto to bolt or fall apart at any moment. It was almost like he knew what he'd been through, like he knew what had happened …

Ianto's chest grew tight and his throat felt like it was closing at thought of Jack knowing how damaged he was.

He stumbled back, squeezing his eyes shut as the feelings of shame and helplessness threatened to drowned him. He felt completely exposed.

Time seemed to have come to a halt. He blinked, glancing at Jack whose face was tight with concern. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the worry in the captain's face.

"Ianto," Jack's voice was firm. "Ianto, look at me. You need to breathe."

His throat continued to feel tighter and it became harder and harder to catch his breath; his chest heaved with every attempt.

Jack's voice was fuzzy and distant, hard to hear through the thrumming in his ears. "Ianto, I'm going to touch you, okay?"

He tried to answer but he couldn't; his breathing had become too erratic to form words. Seconds later, there was the gentle weight of a hand resting on his shoulder. It was unfamiliar and made him tense.

"Shh, it's okay," Jack said, squeezing his shoulder lightly.

The weight of all that had happened and the emotions coursing through him became too much. He wrapped his arms around himself, stepping away. Jack's arm fell back to his side.

"Need Owen," Ianto choked, stumbling backwards until he connected with the cabinet by Owen's desk.

"Owen!" Jack voice was sharp, echoing in the hub and causing him to start.

"What do you—" Owen didn't finish. The next thing Ianto heard were footsteps hurrying down the steps.

"Get out of the way!" Owen snapped, pushing by Jack.

Ianto was clawing at his own sides as he hugged himself tightly. His back hurt from where the cabinet's handle that was pressing into it. He wanted to move but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but stand there and let the memories and shame ravage him.

Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him, supporting his weight. "It's all right. I've got you." Ianto pressed his face into the crook of Owen's neck.

"Hurts." It was all Ianto could manage, but it conveyed enough

Owen slid his hands up Ianto's back, one cupping the back of his head. "I know. It's okay. I'm here." Owen pressed his cheek against the side of Ianto's head. "Breathe with me, nice and slow. Feel my chest moving."

Ianto could feel Owen's pulse beating and it grounded him. His breathing slowed, eventually matching Owen's. "That's it. I'm right here. I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Slowly the darkness around him began to recede and he pulled away. Owen didn't let him go far. The overprotective doctor was already reaching wrist, taking his pulse. Ianto let him, wondering if it gave him the same feeling of comfort that Owen's did for him.

When Ianto looked up, he saw Jack standing a few steps behind Owen. His eyes looked glossy, like tears were only a moment from falling.

The doctor released his wrist and stepped away, walking towards the small fridge. He retrieved a bottle of water, passing it to Ianto.

"Here," Owen said. "Drink this. It'll help."

Ianto took it willing, taking a drink and soothing the dry, achy feeling of his throat. "Thanks."

"No problem, mate." Owen took the now half empty bottle back from Ianto.

"Is he okay?" Jack asked.

Owen turned to him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yeah, no thanks to you."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The first thing Ianto did when they entered the flat was to make a beeline for the shower. It was obvious the panic attack had affected him deeply.

Owen marked the time when he heard the water turn on. If it stayed on longer than ten minutes, he would go and check on him. The last thing he wanted was to find him curled up on the floor of the shower or worse, scrubbing his skin raw. It was something that he had experienced with Katie on more than one occasion early on in her recovery, and he learned quickly to gauge her showers and alone time after a flashback because of it.

Just before the ten minute mark, the water shut off and Owen sighed in relief. Thankful he didn't need to intervene.

He finished preparing dinner. Neither of them had eaten at the hub and Owen wasn't letting Ianto skip another meal; he still far too thin.

Just as Owen began to place the plates on the table, Ianto arrived.

They sat in silence, the only sound the scratching of Ianto's fork as he pushed his food about his plate, not taking a bite.

Raising his brow, Owen glanced up at Ianto. "Would you please stop playing with your food and eat something?"

Ianto stopped stirring. "Did you say something?"

"I asked you to stop pushing your food and eat," he paused, taking in the tension that was showing around Ianto's eyes, "but now I want to know what's got you so distracted."

Shrugging, Ianto stabbed a piece of chicken and brought it to his mouth.

"I'm not blind, Ianto. I can tell when something's bothering you."

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"About Jack."

Owen frowned. "Do you miss having him, like before?"

"No—I mean, yes. I just … I don't know," Ianto said. "It's like being near him reminds me of everything I can't be, of the man I used to be, of who I won't be again. He's not going to want me like this."

"You're still you, Ianto."

"But I'm not." He tossed his fork at his plate. "He's already seen me break down, and look how he reacted. He looked like he wanted to bolt from the room."

Owen felt like he was losing Ianto and it hurt. He'd grown attached to him and didn't want to let him go, especially to Jack, but if Ianto wanted Jack back in his life, he would do his best to stomach the pain that came along with it.

"Look at me, Ianto," he said. "You're going to get past this, we both are. And despite what an inconsiderate ass I think Jack is at times, I know he still cares about you. The last thing on that man's mind today was running from you."

xXx

The door clicked closed and Owen flopped down on the sofa. Tosh had arrived first thing to pick up Ianto for some shopping and to retrieve some things from his flat. Owen was going to protest but she gave him the 'you're being over protective' look and he closed his mouth. It would be good for Ianto to get out, and with Jack back, he felt safer about allowing it.

Owen reached for the remote; it had been days since he had watched the morning news.

He had just kicked his feet up on the table when there was loud knock at the door. Unsure who it may be, he grabbed his gun from the bookcase, cocking it back as he approached.

He looked through the peephole and rolled his eyes at who he saw. It was Jack.

Stuffing the gun into his waist band, Owen unbolted the door and let it open an inch Owen. Jack was standing there, a pizza in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other. Did the man not realize it was nine in the morning?

Tilting his head to the side, Owen narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

"I came to talk."

"Ianto's not here, so why don't you come back later?"

Owen tried to close the door, but Jack's foot suddenly appeared in the doorjamb. The doctor looked at it with disdain.

"If you don't move your foot, I'm going to shoot it."

"I didn't come here for Ianto; I came to talk to you. I'm not asking you to forgive me, Owen. Just to listen."

Rubbing his brow, Owen stepped back from the door, letting it swing open.

"Thank you."

Jack walked past him, heading toward the sofa, pizza held high in one hand. He set the items down on the coffee table and grabbed two bottles, passing one to Owen, who was standing there trying not to look as shocked as he was.

He eyed Jack suspiciously as he opened the beer. He didn't trust Jack not to be up to something. Jack always had a motive. He didn't just appear with peace offerings wanting to chat without a reason; it wasn't his style.

Deciding to humor him, he took a sip and sat down beside Jack.

"Pizza if you're hungry." Jack motioned to the box.

"Thanks, but I'd rather you just tell me why you're here?"

Jack shrugged, taking a long pull from the bottle. "I thought we should talk, since last time we didn't get too far into the conversation."

"I remember, and I'm not feeling any chattier now than I was then."

"Just hear me out."

"Why, so you can apologize?

"Maybe," Jack said.

"Save your breath then. I don't care."

"Owen, things can't go on like this," Jack said. "I know you're pissed at me, I get that, but we can't keep doing this. It's only going to hurt Ianto if we do, and you know it."

Owen raised a brow and took another drink. He was right, though he was loathe to admit it. "So what do you propose we do?"

"Well for starters," Jack took his feet down from the table and leaned forward. "I think we should eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving."

"You go ahead. The beer is enough for me."

"Fair enough," Jack said, taking a slice from the box.

Jack made some disturbingly erotic sounds as he ate, and some even more disturbing gestures. On more than one occasion, his tongue darted out to lick a spot of sauce from his lips. It filled Owen's mind with images that made him shiver; it was like picturing his father getting his rocks off.

"God, I've missed this." He was practically moaning.

"Christ, Jack. Do you think you can tone it down?"

Jack looked up innocently, sucking sauce from his fingers. "Sorry. Where were we?"

"I believe you wanted to talk."

Jack nodded, his expression turning serious again. "We need to work things out between us if we are going to help Ianto. I don't want him to feel alone."

"Look, what happened yesterday—it wasn't entirely your fault," Owen confessed. "I should have warned you. He doesn't like to be touched when he's overwhelmed."

"He let you touch him, though."

"Yeah, well, we've gotten closer since you left. I'm sure Gwen's told you by now some of what happened."

Jack nodded. "She did, not the details, though, but enough I should have known better."

Owen took a sip of his beer. "Yeah, that was a stupid move."

"I'm envious of you, you know," Jack said, "the way he lets you in, lets you close. I used to be the one he opened up to, the one that he let hold him. I miss that."

"Then why leave, Jack? Why give it all up?"

"I had to. I waited over a hundred years for that one moment, for the one chance to be fixed. I couldn't miss it."

Owen's brows knitted together. "Where did you go?"

"The end of the universe and back." Jack paused, looking down at his drink. "I was gone for nearly a year."

"But … how did you?" Owen twisted in confusion. "For a year?"

Nodding, Jack took another drink. "Yep, a whole year. I can't explain it all, or how it only worked out to be only a few months for you, but it happened. And the things that happened to me during that year weren't far from what you and Ianto have been through."

The confession shocked Owen. It was so much information, so much he hadn't expected to hear. It was forcing him to shift his position on Jack, and he didn't like it. It was easier to be angry.

"When you say they were similar, are you saying you were tortured, too?"

"For the better part of a year."

"Shit." Owen set down his beer and held his head in his hands. He felt genuinely bad for Jack. A year in hell, and he still came back, still had his heart. It had only taken days to nearly ruin them and he had lasted through a year.

"So did you fix what was wrong with you?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing. I'm stuck like this."

"That sucks."

Frowning, Jack took a sip of beer. "How bad was it, Owen?"

Suddenly the floor became incredibly interesting. Owen rubbed the back of his neck, his chest feeling tight at the prospect of discussing what had happened.

"We don't have to talk about it," Jack said, like he could sense Owen's trepidation.

"No, you're right. No more secrets." Owen stood up and walked over to the bookcase, running his finger along the spines. "It was pretty bad," he said. "It was really bad."

He turned, looking at Jack, who was leaned forward, resting his elbows resting on his knees. His face was an open book for once. Owen could see the pain, the love, the concern, reflected in his features; the intensity was unsettling. He dropped his gaze and looked away, walking to the window. He pressed his palms against the cold glass, letting the coolness spread through his fingers.

"It was supposed to just take a few hours," he said. "We were just going to Butetown to check out a crime scene. Gwen wouldn't stop going on about it, so we had to go.

"Everything seemed to be going fine, until something knocked us out. When we woke, we were locked in a room, no windows, one door. I had a bad feeling then, but I was too pissed off to care. I didn't want to be there, and I blamed Ianto for it and we fought. I should have never … I didn't know how bad things would get."

"Owen, you can't blame yourself," Jack said.

"But I can. I drew the men in. I yelled until they came. They took him because of me."

"They would have done it anyway."

He shook his head. "You can't know that for sure."

"If they were looking for info, Ianto would be the logical choice. He's also the more intimidating, no offense. Breaking someone like him—well, some people might enjoy it."

The man that had taken them had done more than enjoy it. He'd relished in it. It was like they were toys to him, like it was all some twisted game. The thought of it made him shudder.

Taking a deep breath, Owen continued. He needed to get this out as much as Jack needed to hear it. "When he came back after the first time, I didn't think. I didn't realize how hurt he was until he nearly collapsed after I shoved him. I had no idea."

Owen was expecting to see judgment in Jack's eyes, but there was none.

"What did they do to him?"

"Burned him, beat him, but they didn't break him. He held it together, even though I couldn't. They strapped me in chair, made me watch. I sat there while he cut him, and I closed my eyes while he …"

"While he what?"

Owen averted his gaze, leaving Jack to fill in the blank.

When Owen glanced back at him, he knew Jack had understood. The captain's eyes were closed and his hand clenched around the bottle so tightly it looked like it might break. He looked up at Owen. "I will find him, and when I do, nothing will stop me from killing him, slowly, painfully, and without regret."

There was something chilling about his tone, a cold detachment that left no doubt in Owen's mind that Jack would do exactly that.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"I thought I said no risks." Gwen pressed her hands against the bleeding wound on Ianto's shoulder.

It had been a day since Ianto had found Owen sitting alone on the sofa amongst a scattering of empty bottles and a half eaten pizza, and when Ianto asked him what was wrong, he just shrugged and took another sip from his beer. Whatever it was, Owen didn't tell him and Ianto didn't press him about it. It just seemed like one those times that Owen needed to be alone.

The next day when they both arrived at the hub, they were greeted with a frazzled crew. The rift had been active throughout the night sending them on wild goose chases through Cardiff. Tosh looked like she was ready to drop any moment, Gwen didn't look much better, even Jack looked worn out.

Another alert came through before the coffees could be handed out, weevils were spotted Whitchurch. It was decided that Tosh would stay and direct from the hub and Ianto would take her place, partnering up with Gwen.

The weevil they had been chasing had come inches from grabbing Gwen and biting into her neck. Ianto had tackled it, pulling it back and sustaining a large gash to his shoulder before Gwen was able to turn and shoot it.

"It was about to kill you, Gwen," Ianto said through gritted teeth. "What would you have liked me to do, let it nosh on your head while we waited for back up?"

Gwen glared at him, blood seeping from between her fingers. "Where the hell is Owen!"

"Right here!" A familiar voice said through the sound of pounding feet. Ianto tried to turn toward the sound, but he couldn't see past the dead weevil beside him.

It was then that he noticed he was lying in a puddle of blood, some his own and some the weevils. His stomach muscles twitched and he swallowed back the urge to vomit.

Jack suddenly came into view, eyes panicked and coat waving behind him. He grabbed the weevil and dragged it away so he could kneel down beside Ianto.

Owen was next to appear, his eyes wild and expression tight with concern. He pushed Gwen out of the way and knelt down. He tore the hole larger in Ianto's shirt, inspecting the damage. Ianto tried to look, but all he could see was blood.

Ianto tried to lift his head again but his shoulder protested and he fell back with a thud.

"Keep still!" Owen snapped. He then reached over and grabbed Jack's hand, pulling it down to Ianto's shoulder. "Keep pressure on this while I open my kit."

Ianto yelped as Jack pressed both hands down firmly.

Owen came back into view. "You're gonna feel a bit of a pinch." Ianto looked down in time to see Owen sticking him with a needle. "Just a bit of something to take the edge off."

"Okay, Jack," Owen said, "I want you to lift your hands when I say. I'm going to flush some of this blood away so I can see something through all this mess. He's bleeding like a stuck pig."

Jack nodded, his mouth a tight line.

Owen cupped Ianto's chin, gently turning him to meet his gaze. "Ianto, I want you to focus on something, anything, just don't watch, all right?"

"I'll do my best."

"All right," Owen said, "on my count—one—two—three."

Jack lifted his hands and immediately Ianto felt the warm blood running down the edges of his arm. There was a splash of cold liquid and then pain, a lot of pain. Something sharp dug into his arm.

Ianto threw his head back. "Fuck!"

"How bad is it?" Jack asked.

"I've got the bleeder pinched off for now. We're going to need to get him back to the hub ASAP. He's going to need a roadmap of stitches to make this right."

Ianto nodded, or at least he tried to, but it turned out to be more of a head loll as the drugs and shock began to kick in.

They loaded him and the dead weevil into the SUV, leaving the rest of the Weevils they hadn't captured behind. Ianto's health took precedence.

Ianto sat between Jack and Owen on the ride back to the hub. He wanted to sit up straight, but the injury forced him to lie against Jack, who happily accepted the contact, slipping an arm around Ianto and steadying him on the ride. He tried to focus on the passing scenery rather than the rising feeling of panic at being so confined.

When they reached the hub, both Owen and Jack moved to help him from the SUV. Ianto tried to shrug them off, explaining that he was only injured in the shoulder and not the leg, that he didn't need help walking, but Owen insisted, citing something about shock and blood loss. Together they guided him to the lift and down to the medical bay.

Jack carefully helped him lie back on the table. Jack ran his fingers through Ianto's hair.

The corner of Jack's mouth pulled up in a weak smile. "You always get the worst of it."

Ianto chuckled, but the motion made him groan in pain. His injured shoulder throbbed and Ianto was beginning to wish for better drugs.

Metal clattered in the background, making Ianto start. Jack took Ianto's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Owen's just tossing things around, nothing to worry about."

"Sorry, mate. I'm nearly ready, just looking for the damned scissors so I can cut that shirt off you. I told Gwen not to touch my shit."

Ianto tensed, not sure he was ready to be so exposed in front of Jack again. Probably noticing his change in demeanor, Jack reached up with his free hand and ran his fingers through Ianto's hair.

The gesture was meant to be soothing but it only reminded Ianto that Jack was about to see him without a shirt, without any way to hide his scars, at least not the ones of his chest.

"I'm okay if you go," Ianto said. "I mean, you don't have to stay if you don't want to."

"There isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."

Ianto nodded, tightening his grip on Jack's hand.

"Right then," Owen said, pushing the trolley to the bedside. "Time to let the good doctor take a look at you." Owen looked at Jack expectantly. "I'm going to need to remove his shirt, Jack. Maybe you should wait up top for this part."

Owen's protectiveness, his caring, never stopped astounding Ianto. He was thankful to have him in his life, even if he was a prat.

Jack let go of Ianto's hand. "I think I should go," he said, looking like the idea of leaving the room physically pained him.

"No, stay," Ianto said. "You can stay."

Owen glanced up from the tray, watching their exchange.

"Are you sure?" Jack asked.

.Ianto nodded. "Yeah, I want you here."

Jack came back to Ianto's side and took his hand again, his other brushing back the stray hairs from Ianto's forehead.

Owen picked up the scissors from the tray and began cutting away Ianto's shirt. The bloodied, torn fabric fell—leaving him, his chest, and the angry red scars that marred it, completely exposed.

"I'm going to clean up a spot to get a line into you," Owen said, wiping down the blood from the back of Ianto's hand. When it was ready, he slipped the needle into the vein, then withdrew it, leaving the catheter in its place. He attached the line to the port, taped it in place, and hung the IV.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," Owen said, "we get the rest of you sorted out."

The doctor's steady hands made quick work of the damage, and thankfully, Ianto didn't feel more than a few tugs as the stitches went in.

"There we go," Owen said, tapping the gauze in place. "I think you're all set."

"Can I sit up now?"

Owen paused, looking between Jack and him. "Yeah, if you feel you're ready."

Seemingly to protect his privacy, Jack stepped to stand in front of Ianto as he helped him to sit up. The room spun for a moment, whatever Owen had given him for the pain was working.

"I think you know the routine, keep the stitches dry, etc. and until they heal a bit, I want you in a sling so I know you aren't going to pull them free. The good news is that I found the Vindecare cream when I was looking for the scissors. The last time I'd seen it was when Suzie got stabbed by that tentacled weirdo. It should speed up the healing. Hopefully it'll get you out of the sling in a day or so."

Owen pushed the trolley away, walked over to the cabinet and dug around for a second before producing what Ianto presumed to be his new sling and brought it over to him.

Ianto frowned and Jack rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand. "It's not that bad, blue looks good on you."

"Blue looks terrible on me."

Owen strapped the sling in place. "No taking this off unless I tell you to."

A shiver spread through him and goose bumps covered his arms and chest. It was cold and he was still very shirtless. He wrapped his good arm around himself.

Jack shucked off his coat and laid it over Ianto's shoulders. "I think blue looks very good on you."

The initial weight of it made him wince, but the smell that was coming from it made him quickly forget. It smelled of Jack, but there was something else lingering in the background, something that didn't smell as pleasant. It was metallic and pungent. He looked down at the coat; blood had soaked the wool of one of the sleeves. He had to fight to keep his stomach and its minimal contents from lurching from his throat.

Ianto went to rub a hand over his face but paused when he saw the blood, died and sticky covering his hand. He closed his eyes and sighed. He wanted to scream. When was the shit going to end?

"You all right, mate?" Owen asked, reaching out and taking his wrist, feeling the pulse that Ianto knew gave him comfort.

Ianto looked up. "Yeah, fine, I just really need a shower and I know that you're going to say no."

"Well, no, you're not taking a shower, but that doesn't mean you still can't get cleaned up," Owen said, walking over to sink, dumping the tray into it with no real regard for how any of it landed. He brushed his hands together and turned back to Ianto, leaning against the sink. "Why don't we head home and I'll help you get straightened out."

Ianto flushed and he averted his gaze. "I don't need you to bathe me."

"I didn't say you did. I was offering to help. If you would stop being such a stubborn Welshman for a change, you might see that."

Jack moved his hand, placing on the small of Ianto's back. He cringed back from the touch, not because it was Jack, but because he didn't like anyone touching his scars.

Jack's hand fell and he stepped away. "I've got to meet with Toshiko and Gwen. Call me if you need anything."

Ianto felt guilty for not stopping him this time as he walked away, but the day had just been too much for him. He knew when he left with the team to go weevil hunting that it was probably a bad idea; he just wasn't aware how bad an idea it was.

Owen helped him down from the table and they walked together, Jack's coat still hanging from his shoulders, up the stairs and to the lift. He could feel Jack's eyes on him as he went by and it made his heart clench. He just wasn't ready yet, but he hoped he would be soon.

Owen unlocked the door and helped Ianto inside. Carefully Owen lifted the coat from his shoulders and tossed it off to the side; it landed in a heap by the door.

Ianto rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. He was too sore and too filthy to care about anything other than getting clean and into bed.

Owen led him to the bedroom and guided him to sit on the edge of bed. Ianto blinked, watching Owen as he knelt down in front of him. The doctor slipped the first shoe off and set it beside him. He then peeled off the sock and tossed it off to the side. Without looking up, Owen took Ianto's barefoot in both hands and began to rub the sole of his foot using gentle pressure, working his thumbs into points that caused Ianto to moan in relief. No one had touched him like this since Lisa.

Soon the hands left his foot, moving on to the other. He followed the same routine as before and again Ianto moaned as the doctor worked the stress from his body.

When Ianto opened his eyes again, Owen was looking up at him.

"I'm going to go get some warm water and flannels," Owen said, setting Ianto's foot down.

Owen came back in moment later with a bowl and a stack of flannels. He set them down on the nightstand.

Ianto was still sitting in the same position as before. He probably should have moved, taken off his bloodied trousers, done something, but he felt good in a weird way, letting someone have control, letting someone make the decisions.

So he sat there and watched absently as Owen approached. "We need to get you out of those trousers, all right?"

"Yeah, okay," Ianto said. He fumbled with the button, trying to undo it one handed, but he couldn't.

"Can I?" Owen asked, gesturing to Ianto's struggle.

Ianto nodded and dropped his hand.

Holding his gaze, Owen slowly unfastened the button and slid them down and then off, tossing them in the same direction as the socks had gone, leaving him sitting in only his pants.

Owen stood, slipped the sling off Ianto, and reached for a flannel, dipping it in the warm water. He wrung the excess out and pressed the cloth to Ianto's face, gently passing it over the dried blood and dirt that clung to him, working his way down and across his chest. When his front was clean, Owen sat behind him and gently wiped the cloth over the rough, raised scars of Ianto's back. Ianto felt his fingertips brush over a few of the worst scars. He knew the doctor blamed himself for what had happened, but Ianto wished that he would let it go. There was nothing he could have done.

"Owen," Ianto said quietly.

The fingertips that were tracing one of the particularly jagged scars disappeared. "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, why?" Owen asked.

"Because you don't seem fine."

"Well, I am."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

Ianto yawned, arching his back as he did; it was stiff and he wished he could move enough to crack it, but the stitches wouldn't allow it.

"Is your back bothering you?"

"A bit," Ianto said, "but it's not too bad. I'll be all right."

"You're being stubborn. Why not let me try and help? Besides, I need to work some of those scars anyway."

"Fine," Ianto grumbled, using his good arm to shift himself so he could lie down on his stomach. It felt so good to be lying down; every muscle in his body seemed to cry out in relief at meeting the soft, overpriced mattress.

The bed shifted and then Owen climbed up to sit on Ianto's arse. Using the tips of his fingers, he applied light pressure and began to work the scars in a circular motion. It hurt a bit a first, but then it began to feel good.

Ianto closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep as Owen gently worked the tension from his body.

He woke with a start; someone was banging on the door. The room was dark and he struggled to his feet. Owen was nowhere to be seen, but he could now hear shouting coming from the lounge. He grabbed his dressing gown and quickly threw it on, rushing from the room.

Gwen and Owen were standing toe to toe, fingers pointed into each other's chests.

"What's going on?" Ianto asked, already moving closer to separate them if need be.

Gwen turned, hands on her hips. Owen looked furious. "Don't, Gwen! Not right now!" he warned.

"He needs to know!" Gwen snapped, turning back to Owen.

"Someone tell me what's going on!"

Gwen ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Ianto. Jack's gone. He left. We don't know where he went."

"What?" Ianto blinked and stumbled back. He took a deep breath, trying to understand what she said, what it meant.

Jack had left them again. Jack was gone.

The room spun and then it all went black.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

The hub was quiet. The usual noises hummed lightly in the background as Jack paced his office.

He thought back to Ianto and what Owen had said. The images of what he had described twisted painfully in his mind, slithering down through him to his heart, where they settled like a heavy stone.

It crushed him to know that he couldn't be the one, at least not yet, who could comfort Ianto. As much as he hated that it wasn't him, he was thankful that Owen was there and able to take his place; Ianto needed someone.

He knew firsthand the pain that came with something as dark and sinister as what Ianto had been through. In his years, he had been through many things, and when he was on the Valiant, there were many things done to him, humiliating things, painful things, that hurt him both physically and emotionally.

He could only hope that Ianto would let him in, let him close enough that he could show him that he understood, that he wouldn't ever do anything to hurt him. He wanted it so badly that it made it hard to breathe.

He peered down through the window, watching Gwen and Toshiko as they worked. Running his hands through his hair, he sighed. He needed to clear his thoughts and focus on solving the mystery behind Ianto and Owen's abduction and torture. Someone was after him with a vengeance, and he needed to figure out who it was if he was to keep his team safe.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he walked back to his desk.

There was something he wasn't seeing, something he wasn't putting together. He'd read the reports, seen the photos, and read and re-read the data collected from the factory. He had gone through every piece of the timeline that'd led Owen and Ianto to be abducted, but he couldn't find a pattern, nothing that would help him find the man responsible. And then there were all the false alarms the rift had been offering up in the past twenty-four hours. It just seemed like there was a connection, but he didn't know what it was. It was like someone was dangling a carrot in front of them, leading Torchwood wherever they saw fit.

He needed to figure this out.

He straightened the map he had laid out earlier. Each of the calls, including those that the team went on before his return, were plotted out in varying colors. There was no pattern as he hoped there would be; instead, it was complete chaos. He didn't realize up to that point just how much he had missed. The team had been incredibly busy in his absence, weevil calls, artifact retrievals, rogue aliens. He couldn't help but be proud of them. They had been through so much and handled it all as well as if he had been there himself to assist.

He leant against his desk and closed his eyes, like he was trying to will the connection to bring it all together to be made, but nothing came.

There was shouting from outside his office that caught his attention. He walked out to the doorway and looked down. Gwen and Toshiko were hunched over the computer.

"Jack." Gwen's voice echoed in the hub. "We need you down here."

Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair and headed down the stairs. "What's up, Gwen?"

"We were just looking at the CCTV footage again, and we were able to capture a partial of the man we think took Owen and Ianto from the house in Butetown."

His heart skipped a beat and he clenched his jaw. "Show me."

"We're not sure this is the same guy," Toshiko explained, "but the van is the same make and model and partial plate. This photo was taken ten miles from Butetown, about six hours before the abduction."

The image was fuzzy, but he was able to make out some of the details. The man was stocky with short hair. Whoever he was, he seemed familiar but he couldn't place him.

Before he could say a word, his wrist strap beeped. Toshiko and Gwen turned and looked at him, puzzled.

"That never beeps," Gwen said.

Toshiko furrowed her brow. "She's right, Jack. What's it mean?"

It had been a long time since he'd had a message alert come from his manipulator; the last time was when he was an active member of the Time Agency. There was only one person he could imagine it to be from.

Flipping open the strap, he pressed the button to display the message.

A hologram of John Hart appeared before him. He felt a mixture of emotions pass through him, everything from anger to regret; there was even a hint of longing for a time long since passed where life was simpler.

"You're getting a bit slow in your old age," John said. "I thought I'd been fairly clear I was looking for you, sending you all over the map, just like we did back in Hijaxia to those republic coppers."

Gwen glared at Jack. "Jack?"

He shook his head and they continued to listen.

"Anyway, I suppose I've got your attention now. I want to meet. I'm a busy man, so don't keep me waiting. Back trace the transmission to find me."

The message cut out. Jack looked up. Gwen and Toshiko were both staring at him, expectantly.

"Well," Gwen said after a beat. "Are you going to explain?"

"There's nothing to explain, Gwen. I have to go. You both need to stay here. Don't follow me; it's not safe."

"Jack—" Toshiko started, but he shook his head and put up a hand to stop her.

"I'm sorry, but I need to leave. And I mean what I said. I don't want you following me, no tracking either."

Jack turned to leave, but Gwen grabbed his arm to stop him. He tensed at the contact. "Please, Gwen."

"Who is he, Jack?"

"Someone from my past, someone you don't need to meet." He shook his arm free and began walking again.

"Are you at least coming back?" she called after him.

He looked back over his shoulder. "Don't follow me."

It didn't take long to track down where the transmission came from. He arrived at a bar in the centre of Cardiff.

It had been so long since he'd seen John, and he didn't know what to expect, but knowing John, it wasn't purely a friendly visit. He always had an agenda.

He stepped in through the doors of the club. The lights were low and music played lightly in the background. Looking around, he saw the club was empty with the exception of John, who stood at the bar, drink in hand. He looked just like the last time he'd seen him and Jack wondered where in the timeline this John was from.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." John's voice drifted from the bar. He turned, leaning back, one elbow propped against the counter.

John leered at him, gaze drifting from head to toe. "Nice coat."

Jack smirked. "I could say the same for yours."

John stepped forward at the same time as Jack. They moved like they were ready to fight but stopped when they were toe to toe. The stared at each other, their bodies tight with tension.

"John," Jack breathed.

"You missed me, didn't you?"

They were so close that they were nearly touching. With every breath, Jack's chest brushed against John's.

"I don't know if _missed_ is the right word."

"Then what one is?"

Jack blinked and tried to gather himself. He didn't want to go down this road. Jack had changed since his time with John, and he cared about Ianto too much to risk his relationship with him. But he couldn't deny the temptation that John offered, the chance to revisit the past. John had always held a place in his heart, whether he wanted him to or not. They had been through too much.

He stepped back from him, pressing a hand to John's chest, holding him back. "What do you want? Why did you call me down here?"

"Ouch," John said, feigning hurt. "I thought we could at least have a little reunion first, but I guess you've moved on to other things." John wandered back towards the bar and picked up his drink, taking a sip. "I'm in town for a job of sorts."

"And you need my help?"

"In a way." He sent his drink down and walked back toward Jack. "I suppose you could say you're necessary to my freedom."

"What are you talking about?"

John circled Jack. "Now that would be telling."

Jack spun around, coat billowing out around him, his body tense. "Stop with the games."

John smiled wanly. "I'm sorry about this, Jack. I really am."

Jack stepped back just as John lunged forward, something small and metal in his hand. Jack grabbed his hand and twisted back behind him, pulling him around so his back was pressed to his chest.

"Still like it rough?" Jack asked, struggling to hold him.

"Always."

He felt John tense just before he drew his head forward and then slammed it back into Jack's face. Jack released him, stumbling back, hand held to his face. John landed a blow to the side of his head and then another to his gut.

Jack regained his composure long enough to charge forward and wrap his arms around John, pushing him back until they slammed into the bar.

"I really am sorry, mate, but I just don't have any other choice," John said, grunting as they fought for control.

There was a sharp pain in his thigh and he released John, one hand going to press against his leg. His vision began to get blurry, darkening around the edges. His limbs grew heavy and he slid to the floor.

Jack looked up, palms pressed against the dirty tile, trying to hold himself up. "What … what did you give me?" Jack said, his voice breaking.

John frowned, shaking his head. "Forgive me, Jack."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"How's the head now?" Owen asked, squatting down beside the couch where Ianto was laying.

Ianto rubbed his brow. "It's fine. Sorry about earlier. I think the blood loss got to me."

"Blood loss can do that," Owen agreed, knowing just as well as Ianto did that it wasn't just the blood loss that caused the blackout. The shock of Jack having left them again was a blow that the Welshman wasn't ready for, none of them were.

Owen couldn't deny that part of him was worried for Jack, but another wanted to strangle the man. He had no right to leave them again, not like that. They were a team now, and if Jack wanted to be part of it, he needed to respect that communication was tantamount to their survival and safety.

Ianto pushed himself up and leaned his head forward on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He groaned as he rubbed his palms over his face. Owen watched, ready to offer whatever he could to help. He wished he could take Ianto's pain for himself.

He closed up his kit and slid it out of the way. Standing, he grabbed the coffee table and dragged it closer, sitting on the edge.

He'd checked over Ianto's shoulder and found that it was already healing well.

"I've made him some tea," Gwen said, walking into the room. She passed Owen the steaming cup and looked down at Ianto. "Hey there. Sorry about before. I didn't mean—"

Ianto dropped his hands, resting his forearms on his knees. "It's all right, Gwen. You didn't do it."

Owen passed Ianto the cup, and he took a sip. "S'good."

Gwen shifted from foot to foot. "I'm still sorry, you know … about Jack."

Owen watched Ianto closely, curious to see what his reaction would be. He wondered if Ianto was going to shut down again.

"After hearing what happened, I don't think he had a choice," Ianto said, hands wrapped around the mug. "Him leaving like that, telling you not to follow, it sounds like he was trying to protect us, and I think he was, and if I'm right, Jack needs our help more than ever."

Owen shook his head, putting up a hand. "Whoa there, Ianto. Jack didn't want us to follow him, so maybe we shouldn't. He's a big boy; he knows what he's doing. I think we let him go. He's not our responsibility."

"I'm going after him, Owen. You can either join me or watch me, but either way I'm going."

The idea of Ianto in the field again made Owen more than worried. "You're not going anywhere just yet. Your shoulder is still fucked and you need to rest."

Ianto began to push himself off the sofa. Owen gently pressed a hand against his good shoulder. "Please, Ianto. Just give it a day or two. Then we can go looking to your heart's content. Until then, I'll call Tosh and have her start tracking him." Owen said. "Deal?"

Ianto's gaze flicked between Owen and Gwen for a second before he nodded.

Getting up from the couch, Ianto made his way into the bedroom and struggled his way into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He slipped on his shoes and peeked round the door of the bedroom to see where Gwen and Owen were. He could hear them in the kitchen, talking. It sounded like they were arguing over him again. From the sound of it, Owen was suggesting locking him in the vault beside Janet.

Ianto smirked and shook his head. He knew that Owen meant well, but there was no way he was going to be jailed, and he was thankful that Gwen was putting Owen in his place.

When he heard their voices escalate again, he made his move. He quickly gathered his coat and phone and took Owen's gun from the shelf. With one last glance, he sneaked out the door.

He knew he needed to find Jack. Waiting a day wasn't an option. Anything could be happening to him, and the thought of Jack in pain made his stomach hurt. He began to realize then just how much he cared for him.

The sun was nearly set, and the air was still cool and damp from the earlier showers. He hailed a cab and quickly got in, giving the cabbie the address to the hub. He would need a car to make it all the way to Port Talbot.

He wasn't sure if Jack was there, but his gut told him he was, and if there was one thing he had learnt from Torchwood, it was to trust your instincts.

Getting out of the car, he paid the fare and made his way to one of the SUVs. He always kept a spare key in his wallet, just in case. Gwen had locked them out more than once.

He started the car, and just as he put it in gear, he heard Tosh's voice. He looked in the mirror and saw her, standing by the entrance to the hub, worry etched on her features.

"Ianto, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

He blinked, considering stopping to answer her, but he released the brake instead and pulled away.

His chest felt tight and constricted as he thought about returning to the factory. The only reason he could summon the courage to make the journey was for Jack. But no matter how much resolve he had, he was still terrified of what might lay ahead. He shuddered at the memories. He tried to focus on the present, making each turn and navigating his way to Port Talbot.

Only a few minutes passed before his phone began ringing. He glanced at the screen, knowing who would be calling. Just as he suspected, it was Owen. He silenced the phone and continued driving.

He knew they would be trying to track him, so he leant forward and disabled the tracking program. It wouldn't buy him much time, but it would let him get a head start.

xXx

Jack woke to the familiar feeling of being bound. It was something that he had become accustomed to in the year he was gone, and he hated it. He struggled weakly, the sedatives still not fully cleared from his system.

His senses were still dulled, but he could hear John's voice in the background. It wasn't just his, though. There was someone else, and whoever he was, he was ordering John to leave, saying that he had done his job and was free.

Jack blinked, trying to bring the room into focus.

He was sitting in a chair in poorly lit room; the walls and floor were concrete. Old decayed pipes crisscrossed the ceiling. Water dripped rhythmically from one of the pipes in the corner.

He recognized the place immediately. It was from the photos of where Ianto and Owen had been tortured. He felt a surge of anger at the thought of John having anything to do with their abduction.

Shouting from outside the door drew Jack's attention back to the present.

"You never said you were going to kill him!"

"You never asked, shame that," the man said. "I think it's time you got going before you join him."

There was a moment of silence, and then he heard footsteps moving away.

The door swung open and a man walked in.

It was the same man from the CCTV footage, and like he thought earlier, this man was familiar somehow, but he still couldn't place him. It frustrated Jack to no end.

He lifted his head and straightened his shoulders the best he could in the confines of the chair and its restraints.

"Who are you?" Jack asked.

The man looked at him, puzzled, tilting his head to the side. "You really don't know, do you?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking."

The man smirked. "Well then, I think this means we get to have even more fun than I imagined."

The man sauntered over to the corner of the room. He took his time as he opened and closed the cabinet drawers.

Jack squirmed in the restraints, testing them, trying to find some slack that may allow him an escape, but he found none. He was at this man's mercy.

"You've changed so much since I saw you last," the man said casually, looking over his shoulder.

"And when was that?" Jack asked, hoping to get some clue as to who this was.

The man chuckled, pushing a trolley over to him. Jack swallowed when he saw the tools laid out on it. "You think I would give it away that easily. I thought you were smarter than that, Jack."

Jack studied his face, scouring his mind for any memory of this man.

The man reached out a hand and brushed it over Jack's. Jack clenched his hand into a fist and looked up at him. For a moment, Jack thought he saw a glimmer of something akin to pain on his features.

The man quickly pulled his hand back like the touch had burned him. Anger flashed over his features and he drew back a fist, slamming it into Jack's face.

Blood filled Jack's mouth and he spat it onto his chest. He licked his lip where the man's fist had split it. Glancing up at the man, Jack now saw that he looked apologetic.

"Sorry about that," he said, taking a knife from the tray. "I didn't mean to be so rough so soon."

"If you want to kill me, just do it."

"I didn't go through all this effort to just kill you," he said, speaking like one would to a small child. "I want it to last. I want to watch you suffer, alone, and without a friend in the world to save you."

The man smiled sadly, dragging the tip of the knife along Jack's jaw, just hard enough to feel but not to cut. "Do you know what it's like?"

"What what's like?"

"To be left behind by someone, to be forgotten." The man's face was solemn as he spoke. His eyes looked pained. It was an expression you could tell he wore a lot.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to help you."

As quickly as the pain had appeared on his features, it was replaced by anger. "Of course you don't know. You've always been first, always been given the world. You never had to suffer like I did."

"Then tell me. Tell me what happened to you to make you hate me so much."

"I waited for you, you know?" the man said, the knife having now traced its way down to his hand. "I begged the stars that you would come, but you never did. Until one day, I understood, you'd forgotten."

"If I knew who you were, if you would just tell me ..."

"I did this all for you, so you could feel my pain and understand. I took your friend, your lover, and I broke them both just so you could feel it, the pain of knowing that you caused it, that it was all your fault."

Jack's mind was whirling as he tried to place the man in his life.

"You let go," he pressed the tip of the knife against the back of Jack's hand, slowly parting the skin until the blade sank, slipping between the bones. Jack gritted his teeth, trying not to cry out. "You let me go. That's all he asked, for you to hold my hand. Why did you leave me behind?"

The world felt like it stopped and Jack's limbs grew heavy as the information tumbled into place.

Tears filled his eyes and he choked, finding his mouth so dry he could barely form words. "No, you can't be." He shook his head.

The man smiled, squatting down so he was eye level with Jack. "Ah, so easy for you to forget, yet so hard for you to remember."

A tear slipped down his cheek. "Gray?"


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Owen stormed out of the flat, throwing his coat on as he went, his mind reeling with the horrible possibilities that might be Ianto's fate. None of the options, not one, was something that Owen could live with having happened to his friend.

Gwen was hot on his heels as he charged out the front door onto the street. Neither of them spoke. Owen knew that Gwen was likely feeling just as guilty as him. When he chanced a look in her direction, he saw she was chewing on her lip and her brow was furrowed in concern.

They got into the car and Owen slammed it into gear, peeling away from the curb, his anger getting the best of him.

Gwen grabbed the handle over the door. "Take it easy, Owen," she said.

Owen scowled. "He's got my gun, Gwen. Who knows where he's headed. Anything could happen to him out there!"

Gwen sank back in her seat. Owen immediately felt a pang of regret for snapping. It wasn't anymore Gwen's fault than his own.

The traffic light flicked to red just as he approached the intersection. He tightened his grip on the wheel, and instead of stopping, he gunned the engine, flying through. They narrowly missed being hit by a truck, making Gwen yelp.

"Christ, Owen! We won't do Ianto any good dead!"

Owen looked over at her, still gripping the wheel tightly. "Sorry, all right?"

Gwen shook her head and turned to stare out the window.

"Gwen," Owen said. "Call Tosh, let her know what's going on. Get her to start a trace on his phone."

"Good idea." Gwen took out her phone and dialed Tosh.

It wasn't much further to the hub. The sooner they got there the better. With any luck, Tosh would be able to start a trace and they would be able to pick up his trail before he got too far.

"Tosh," Gwen greeted on the phone. "Ianto took off—" There was pause and Owen glanced over at Gwen. Her lips were pursed and her brows pinched together. "He what? Shit. All right, we'll be right there." Gwen flipped the phone closed. "Tosh said she just saw him. He took one of the SUVS. She'll be waiting for us outside the hub. We need to find him, Owen."

Owen slammed his fist into the steering wheel in frustration. If they had called Tosh sooner, maybe she would have been able to stop him. Why did he have to take off without them? They were a team. If Ianto felt that strongly about finding Jack, Owen would have gone with him. But Ianto had agreed to Owen's suggestion of waiting with so little complaint, Owen had thought nothing of it.

"We'll find him, Gwen," he said, trying to reassure her and maybe even himself, too.

The tires squealed as he rounded the last turn before they reached the Plass. He grabbed for his phone and, keeping one eye on the road, he dialed Ianto's cell. On the third ring it kicked over to voicemail. Ianto wasn't answering. He tried again, and this time it didn't ring but went straight through to voicemail. Ianto had turned his phone off, and with it, the ability to track him easily.

He pulled to a stop and Tosh got in, a bag of equipment slung over her shoulder. "I've packed the scanner and laptop. I should be able to track him." She reached in the bag. "I also brought these." She passed a gun to each Gwen and Owen.

They both tucked the weapons down beside them.

Owen shifted the car into gear and made to pull away from the curb, but suddenly there was someone standing directly in the light of the car's headlamps.

The man had his hands on his hips, red military jacket pushed off his sides, exposing a holstered gun.

Owen grabbed his gun and put the car back in park. He got out and walked over to the man whose face was still shadowed from the light.

Owen cocked his gun back, training it on him.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Owen had no qualms about shooting him. There just seemed to be something off about this man, and Owen wasn't taking any chances.

The man moved his hands from his hips and tentatively put his hands up in surrender. "Well, I pictured this going a bit better."

Owen breathed heavily, adrenaline pumping in his veins. "Get down on your fucking knees, hands on your head."

John leered at him, raising a brow. "And to think we only just met."

John didn't make a move to obey Owen's command; instead, he walked closer to him.

Gwen got of the car and pointed her gun at the back of John's head. "Stop right there."

The huffed, looking between Gwen and Owen. "What is it with you guys and guns?"

"Who are you?" Owen growled. "And what do you want?"

"I came to warn you. You need to get the hell out of town."

"Why should we listen to you?" Gwen said. "We don't even know your name."

"The name's John, and I know where to find Jack."

"And that's where?" Owen asked, gun unwavering.

"I'm sorry, mate. I hate to tell you, but the guy who's got him has no intention of keeping him alive for very long. There's no way to save him now. You need to get the hell out of town."

Gwen pulled the hammer back on her gun. "If you saw him there, why didn't you help him? How do we know this isn't a trick?"

"Look, petal, I didn't have a choice in the matter. I thought I was doing good, helping out a friend, saving his brother, but I didn't know he'd gone right round the bend. I had to bring Jack to him. If I didn't, I was dead, too."

"What kind of friend are you?" Gwen asked. "You left him there to die."

"Listen, darlin'. I did what I had to do, no more no less."

Owen pursed his lips, studying John for a moment as he processed what he had said. "What do you mean you were saving his brother? Whose brother?"

"You didn't know?" John tilted his head to the side. "Figures that cryptic son of bitch wouldn't tell you. Jack has a brother, Gray, he lost him when he was a kid."

"And you're saying that Jack's brother is the one that took us? Who …"

John nodded, an uneasiness coming over his features. "Yeah."

Anger shot through Owen, and he had to repress the urge to shoot him right then. "And you helped him?"

"I told you, no choice, but I didn't have anything to do with you and your friend. That was all him. I only found out what he'd done to you guys after the fact. Gray sent me to the factory to retrieve some things. He told me then."

Tosh, who had been listening from the car, got out and approached the scene. "You were there after? How did you get there?"

John looked over at Owen. "I'm going to move my arms now, so don't shoot. I'm just sliding up my sleeve a bit."

Owen nodded and John did as he said, revealing a wriststrap that looked just like the one Jack wore.

"Time Agency standard issue vortex—"

"Manipulator." Tosh finished for him. "That's the energy signature that Gwen found. No wonder it was such a close match."

"You still haven't said why you're here now," Owen said.

"I came to warn you about Gray. I figure I owe it to Jack. You know since …"

"Since you left him to die?" Owen sneered.

"Yeah, that," John said.

Owen held the gun on him for a few more seconds, deliberating on whether to believe John or not. In the end, he decided that he didn't care. He needed to get to Ianto. He dropped his hands and turned to get in the car.

"Hey, where on you going?" John asked.

"Ianto's gone after Jack."

"Jack's dead."

"And Ianto needs our help," Owen said flatly.

"Shit," John ran his fingers through his hair. "Why the fuck am I doing this?" John breathed, stepping closer to the car. "All right, make room. I'm coming with you."

xXx

The air in the car felt dense and heavy, making it hard for Ianto to breathe. It wasn't much longer until he reached the factory. And with every mile he drew closer, his heart beat faster. The anticipation and his worry for what was to come was killing him.

It seemed that everything he had been through was flooding back at him in waves. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, feeling suddenly like it was choking him. He rolled down the window, needing some fresh air.

He crossed the last bridge and took the right onto the small side road that led to the factory.

The gravel of the road grated under the tires as he pulled to a stop in front of the gate. He took a deep breath. His hands gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He could feel himself shaking.

He took his hands off the wheel and scrubbed them over his face.

Grabbing the gun, he opened the door and stepped out into the night.

He walked over to the gate. It was chained closed. Lacing his fingers into the chain-link, he hung his head, doubt running through his mind. What if Jack wasn't in there?

Gathering himself, he raised his head and squared his shoulders. He needed to find a way in.

He ran along the fence line until he came to a spot that someone had cut away. He pushed himself through the gap in the fence, the metal scraping his back as he did.

Drawing his weapon, he crept across the open lot. He stopped, shoulder pressed against the rough brick of the building.

He listened, looking around. The air was still and there were no sounds other than the traffic in the distance.

Moving slowly, he made his way to a broken window. Carefully he stepped one leg in and then the other, cautious of the broken glass. The familiar smell hit him first, musky, wet, and old. It made his head spin. It was a sharp reminder of what he had been through there. He brought a hand up to his face and wiped his brow.

He hadn't been in this part before, and he wasn't sure which direction to go.

He walked to the doorway and stepped out into the hall. It was faintly lit, most of the light coming through the old, broken windows. Walking slowly, he made his way toward the end of the hall.

A shiver spread through him and he readjusted his grip on the gun. His palms felt sweaty, and he was having trouble staying focused on the present, rather than on the nightmares chasing behind him in the shadows.

Another corridor branched off the one he was in. This one he knew. He looked up at the ceiling, remembering the way it looked as he was being dragged across the floor. His heart skipped a beat and he tightened his grip on the gun.

There was a shuffling noise in the distance and he crept down the hall toward the sound. He took a breath and set his jaw.

A scream echoed through the hall, making Ianto start. Adrenaline poured into his veins and he ran forward toward the sound. It was coming from behind the same door that haunted his nightmares.

Bracing himself for what he might find, he kicked in the door. His gaze quickly found Jack, who was hunched on the floor in a heap. The man was knelt down in front of him, holding a knife.

Jack's face was covered in blood and grime. The man blinked, like he was shocked at the interruption.

"You again. Didn't get enough of me last time?"

"Go to hell," Ianto said. The gun wavered as Ianto's hands shook. His finger twitched on the trigger.

"You'd like that too much. I think it would be more fun to play, don't you think?"

Jack tried to push himself up, but he fell back, groaning in pain. They both looked over at Jack, who wasn't doing well.

The man tilted his head to the side, smirking. He stood, casually wiping the blood from his hands on his jeans.

"I don't think you have in you, do you?" the man jeered. "You're not a killer."

Ianto swallowed hard, fighting back the flashes of memories that were threatening to tear him apart.

Jack reached out a hand. "Gray, don't!"

"Shut up, brother," he pointed the knife at Jack.

Ianto looked between Jack and the man he called Gray, the man who called him brother. Ianto shook his head, unwilling to fit the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind.

Gray stepped forward and smiled, one hand reaching out to take the gun from Ianto. That was enough to break Ianto's mind free.

The next few moments passed slowly. It all felt like a dream as Ianto pulled the trigger back. He could feel every action of the gun as it fired, each slip and tick of metal as the next round chambered itself.

Gray's body fell to the floor, collapsing forward as he lay gasping for breath.

Jack cried out and Ianto looked up to see the tears streaming down his face.

He fired three more shots before time caught up with him again and Gray's body finally went still.

Ianto fell to his knees, and for a second, it was silent.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The silence was broken by Jack's agonized cry. Ianto looked up, the gun still held limply in one hand, and he stared at him, unblinking.

Jack's face was twisted in pain as he pushed himself to his feet, stumbling over to the lifeless body of his brother where he fell to his knees again, his hands reaching out to brush over Gray's face.

The sight of Jack mourning the man that had hurt him so badly made Ianto's stomach knot and churn. He began clenching and unclenching his jaw. His fingers, once barely holding his gun, were now gripping it tightly again. He didn't know what he wanted to do with the gun, but a few thoughts came to mind.

Jack pressed a hand against his brother's chest, lowering his head in what looked like a silent prayer, tears having carved lines through the blood and filth that covered his face. Ianto's lip twitched in response.

"No," Ianto said, pushing himself back from the sight. "No!"

The sweat trickling down Ianto's forehead tickled his brow, and he reached up and rubbed it with the butt of the gun.

Ianto's body began to shake and his mind raced. He paced the room. His knuckles were white as he gripped the gun.

Ianto reached up and laced his fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots. A tear rolled down his cheek and his lip trembled. He was falling apart and he knew it, and this time there was no one there to catch him.

Ianto backed himself up into the corner until his back was pressed against the cool concrete wall. He tried to let the solid feeling of the wall ground him, but the only thing his eyes could focus on was the scene in front of him, on the blood that was seeping out inch by inch from the body on the floor, on the way Jack looked so completely broken by what he had done.

Had he done the right thing? Was he a monster now?

His earlier resolve was beginning to waver, and the doubt in what he had done settled heavy in his gut. He had killed a man.

He looked down at his hands, at the gun, and he swallowed. Nothing seemed fixable anymore. It was all a mess and it was beyond repair. There was no going back from here.

After what Gray had done, after everything that had happened, the last thing Ianto thought he would see would be Jack shedding tears over the man that tortured them all.

A gun fired somewhere in the distance and Ianto jumped. He hadn't even thought about who could be there in the building with them.

"Ianto!" He heard Owen's voice faintly through the hall. "Goddammit, Ianto. Answer me!"

It was only a moment later when Owen came charging in to room, gun drawn and face taut with concern. Gwen and Tosh were right behind him. Another man Ianto had never seen stepped tentatively into the room after them.

Owen's gaze flitted between Ianto and Jack and then bloody body, but settled on the gun in Ianto's hand.

It seemed everyone in the room was holding their breath, waiting for someone to make a move.

"I had to do it," Ianto said.

"I know you did, mate. I know you did. Now put the gun down."

Ianto's hand twitched on the gun and he pulled it in tightly to himself, protectively.

"Ianto," Owen said softly, stepping closer.

A shiver wracked Ianto's body. It was getting harder to breathe. He struggled to pull air into his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the room around him. It scared him that he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel a moment's remorse for killing Gray. If anything, it felt good, and if he was given the chance, he would do it again.

"Ianto," Owen's voice came from beside him. He was closer than before. "I need you to focus on me for a minute. You're going to hyperventilate."

Ianto nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes still closed. "I-I just need a minute."

"Okay, take as long as you need."

Ianto took a deep breath and looked up at Owen.

Owen's fingers gently wrapped around his wrist and then suddenly the weight of the gun was gone.

Just having Owen closer made his nerves settle some.

Owen's hand pressed against his chest. Ianto looked down at it. Owen used his other hand to guide Ianto's chin up so their gaze met. "Nice and slow." Owen took a breath and released it. Ianto copied him.

They did that for a minute until Ianto began to stop shaking.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I need to get out of here."

A voice Ianto didn't know spoke. "What's wrong with him?"

Owen looked over his shoulder. "None of your business. Now why don't you go make nice with Jack or something?"

Ianto's breaths stuttered and Owen turned his attention back to him. "Okay, let's go, but first, are you hurt?"

Ianto shook his head. "I'm all right."

"All right, then, come on, let's get you out of here."

Keeping a hand pressed against the small of his back, Owen guided Ianto out of the room.

xXx

Jack hung his head, listening to Ianto and Owen's footsteps as they left the room. As much as he wanted to get up and follow, he couldn't. He was frozen there, one hand pressed to the bloody chest of his younger brother.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember him as he was, before all this, before he became a monster, when he was still the young boy who toddled around after him, begging him to read him one more story. Or when he was older and wanted nothing more than to play one more game of pass even though they had played for hours.

Leaning in, he gently pressed his lips to Gray's forehead and whispered goodbye, goodbye to the boy who he had loved so much.

Jack rose to his feet and looked around the room. Gwen, Toshiko, and John all stood around him, heads hung. John stepped forward to speak, but shook his head and fell back.

Gwen stepped forward, her hands reaching out to Jack, but John grabbed her and pulled her back. "Not now, love."

Jack squared his shoulders and stepped forward. He heard a whispered 'sorry' from Gwen as he brushed past her.

Jack walked out of the room. He had to find Ianto. He knew he couldn't let him suffer without knowing that it was okay, that what he did didn't change anything. He loved him and nothing would ever change that.

He pushed the heavy steel door open and walked outside. He faintly heard Gwen and John talking about whether to follow, but he didn't listen or respond. He let the door fall closed behind him as he stepped out onto the pavement.

What Jack saw broke his heart. Ianto was leant against the brick wall, his shoulders slumped and shaking as if he was crying, and as Jack drew closer, he saw that he was.

Owen was there, trying to soothe him but it wasn't working.

Jack walked up beside them slowly. Owen's back was to him and the doctor was focused on Ianto.

"It's okay," Owen said. "Everything's going to be okay." The doctor had one hand rested on the nape of Ianto's neck, his thumb rubbing gently at the skin there.

Not wanting to surprise them, Jack cleared his throat lightly to announce his presence.

Owen turned his head and sighed. "Hey."

"How is he?" Jack asked quietly.

"He's in shock," Owen said, stepping back. He looked to Jack like he was lost as to what to do to fix this. "He just keeps repeating the same thing."

Jack listened and very quietly, beneath his breath, Ianto was speaking.

"I had to do it," Ianto breathed. "I had to."

Jack's heart broke a little more and his eyes began to tear. He swallowed, bringing a hand up to Ianto's face.

"I had to do it," Ianto said, his eyes pleading as he looked at Jack.

Jack brought his other hand up to rest on Ianto's neck. "It's okay, Ianto. I know you did."

He leant in and touched his forehead to Ianto's, and for the first time, Ianto didn't pull away. That's when he knew that things were going to be okay, maybe not right away, but in time things were going to be just fine.

~END~

Epilogue to follow


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Ianto spent the first few days after the shooting in Owen's flat with Jack and Owen keeping vigil. Owen had to resort to giving him anti-anxiety meds to calm him down and pills to help him sleep at night. The poor bloke couldn't let go of what he'd done. He was constantly apologizing, and the stress of it all was taking a toll on him. His nightmares were back in full force, and he was barely eating. Owen tried every trick he knew to help Ianto, sitting with him, reading to him, even holding his hand, but the only thing that would really help was time. And that seemed to be moving at a sluggish pace.

At first, Owen was worried about Jack and Ianto spending time together. He didn't know how Jack would handle Ianto. It was a tense situation. Owen knew that Jack was holding a lot of emotions in and Ianto was falling apart himself. Neither of them were ready to support the other. But Jack didn't leave, and he kept his presence with Ianto constant, reassuring him that he wasn't angry and that he wasn't going anywhere.

Owen couldn't help but eavesdrop from time to time to see how things were going between the two. Owen tiptoed to the bedroom and peered through the crack in the door.

"How are you doing, Ianto?" Jack asked, rubbing the Welshman's back.

Ianto shrugged. "I don't know how you can forgive me."

"Ianto, I told you, the man you killed stopped being my brother when he hurt you. The boy I grew up with, he died years ago."

Ianto leant into Jack's side, resting his head on his shoulder. "How do you deal with it? I mean, I know things happened to you when you were gone, and yet you're able to go on like nothing happened."

Jack sighed. "It still bothers me, every day, but I know that I have you, all of you, to take care of. I can't let it get to me."

"That's not fair, Jack. You deserve help too."

"Seeing you heal, watching you get better, that helps me. I'm responsible for what happened, so I need to be the one to help put it all back together."

"That's not true, Jack. You didn't do this to us."

"Maybe not directly, but I did. If I had held onto Gray's hand as a child, if I hadn't left with the Doctor, if I had come back sooner, things would be different."

Ianto shook his head. "Tell you what, I'll stop asking for forgiveness if you stop blaming yourself."

Jack smiled, tugging Ianto closer and kissing him on the head. "Deal. Now let's get you medicated so you can get some sleep."

Jack settled Ianto down in the bed and turned out the light. It was only an hour later when the nightmares began, drawing Owen and Jack back to the room.

"Did he have nightmares like this before I came back?" Jack asked.

Owen frowned. "Yeah, sometimes worse than others."

They both watched him for a moment. Owen listened to the whimpers and they broke his heart. Ianto was tangled in the sheets, his brow was wrinkled and the corners of his mouth turned down.

"Do you want me to wake him this time, let you get some sleep?" Jack asked.

"No, I should do it. He seems to settle down easier when it's me."

Jack looked between Owen and Ianto and then nodded. "I'll be in the other room."

Owen patted Jack on the shoulder and made his way over to the bed.

"Hey there, Ianto," he said softly. "Time to wakey, wakey." He gently nudged the Welshman's leg.

Ianto started, pulling his legs up and grabbing at the sheets. He was panting and his eyes were wildly searching the room. Owen hated watching Ianto struggle to awareness. It nearly broke him every time.

"Shh, easy there," Owen said, moving to turn on the light. He held up his hands and stepped back as Ianto pushed himself up in the bed. "You're okay. You're here at the flat."

Ianto seemed to calm and Owen stepped forward, careful not to startle him. "Better? Awake now?"

"Yeah, another nightmare." Ianto rubbed the back of his neck. "Did I wake you again?"

"Nah, I was still up," Owen said. He looked over at Ianto, his breathing was still a bit too fast and his legs were twitching slightly. He was so broken, and Owen wanted nothing more than to scoop him up in his arms and tell him it was all okay, but Jack was there and Owen knew that's who Ianto needed. "You know, Jack's still here if you want to see him."

Ianto straightened his legs and pulled the sheet up. "Oh, he is?"

Owen nodded. "Do you want him to come in?"

Ianto shrugged.

Owen walked over and picked up the blanket Ianto had kicked off in his sleep and draped it back over him, tucking it in. "You know, he's probably pacing outside the door right now. I'm sure he wants to come in."

"I hate that I need someone with me to fall asleep. I feel guilty asking."

"I'll make it easier for both of you," Owen said, stepping toward the door. "Jack! Get in here please."

The door swung open and Owen smirked. "I think you both need each other. I'll be in the living room if you need something."

It took another month before things began to settle, and Owen was needed a bit less every night. Jack stepped in and started spending most nights with Ianto. It was awkward having three men sharing a flat, but they managed.

All in all, Ianto was healing, at least on the inside. But the scars were another story.

The scars on Ianto's back were the one thing Owen couldn't take away though he wished he could. Owen knew he felt self-conscious about them. Whenever Owen had to touch them, Ianto would look away and go silent.

Owen subjected Ianto to three sessions of deep tissue massage, or at least his best attempt at it, a week. Ianto hated every minute of it, but he let Owen do it anyway, not that Owen gave him much of a chance to argue. After only a month of treatment, the scars were becoming supple and there were no signs of adhesions.

They always did the sessions at Owen's flat because Ianto didn't want to be that exposed at work. Owen couldn't blame him.

"Just a little more and then I'll leave you alone." Owen said, pressing the heel of his hand into the scar on Ianto's shoulder. Ianto was lying shirtless, facedown on the bed, with Owen perched on his arse.

"It hurts," Ianto whined.

Owen pushed his hand in small circles. "Yeah, well, suck it up a minute longer. I'm almost done."

Ianto groaned, tensing his shoulder. "Have I told you lately that I hate you?"

"You love me and you know it," Owen said, softening his touch. "Now stop tensing, it only makes it worse."

"Stop digging your bony fingers into my spine and I might."

Owen chuckled. "You're such a baby."

"And you're a twat."

Owen slapped Ianto's reddened back. "There you go, all set."

"About time." Ianto pushed himself up and swung his feet over the bed. "I really hate this whole thing you know."

"Yeah, I know, but it's helping. You want to be able to use your back, right?" Owen walked over the bathroom door. "Besides, it lets me work out some of my pent up emotions."

Owen washed his hands and then walked back out into the room. "So, I noticed you and Jack were talking today."

Ianto walked over and grabbed his shirt, slipping it on. He looked away. "We talked."

"And?"

"And we're going on a date, next week."

Owen had to keep his mouth from dropping open in shock. He hadn't expected that. At least not yet.

"A date? Don't you think it's a bit soon?"

Ianto shrugged. "It's not like we've never been together before. We were pretty close before. There were many times—"

Owen held up his hand. "Please stop there, spare me the details. The last thing I want to do is picture you and Jack going at it."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Well, there was this time that he—"

"Stop!" Owen snapped. "I already saw too much last year in the boardroom. I don't need anything else."

Ianto laughed. "I'll leave you with two words: office chair."

"Gah!" Owen shook his head trying to dislodge the memory. "I will find a way to get even with you."

The following week, Ianto was set for their date when the rift alarm went off, and so instead of spending the evening relaxing with Jack, he spent it chasing down a pack of weevils that had run rampant through the park. The weevils ended up gutting two people before they were stopped, and the blood and gore of it all left Ianto shaken. It seemed to bring him back to the place he was at just after the shooting.

When they all returned to the hub after the call, a shaky Ianto made a beeline straight for the showers, and Owen let him go. He knew Ianto well enough to know when he needed space. There would be time later for comfort, but right now, Ianto needed to wash the blood away.

Owen saw Jack standing up on the catwalk leading to the boardroom and motioned for him to come over. Jack nodded and walked down to meet Owen by the workstations.

"And how are you doing?" Owen asked, watching Jack plonk down on the sofa.

Jack just shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly? I've been better."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, looking up at Owen. "There's not much to say."

"You know he loves you, right?" Owen said. "Even though he doesn't say it. He really does care for you."

"I really wanted him to enjoy tonight, and here we are, covered in blood and back where we started. It's just frustrating." Jack clenched his fists.

"You're doing the right things, Jack. It's just going to take time."

Jack sighed, leaning back on the sofa. "Do you think he'll be okay after tonight?"

"Yeah, he just needs some room to get his thoughts together. It was a lot to see those people like that. He's had a thing about blood since … well you know."

Jack ran his hand through his hair. "I knew he wasn't ready to be out there in the field. I shouldn't have let him."

"Jack, he needs things to be as normal as possible. We can't keep treating him with kid gloves."

"I know. It's just hard to watch him hurting."

Owen took a breath and nodded. "You and me both."

It was another week before work settled enough that they were able to plan another date, and Ianto was nervous. He wanted to be with Jack, but the idea of sharing himself with another person scared him. He was worried that he would freeze up and embarrass himself.

"It's going to be fine, Ianto," Owen said as he put away the leftover takeout into the fridge.

Ianto leaned against the counter, watching him. "What if I can't … you know, touch him?"

Owen shut the fridge and looked over at him, his face serious. "Listen, Ianto. Jack knows what you've been through, and he cares about you. He won't push you into anything you're not ready for, and if he tries, you tell me, and I'll kill him, repeatedly."

Ianto forced a smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right." Owen grinned. "Just remember what we talked about before, if something gets too much, stop and try and focus on where you are, what's around you, name the things in the room if you have to, anything to stay grounded. And let Jack know if it gets too much so they can help you."

Ianto sighed. "I'll try."

"It's going to be fine," Owen said. "You need to let yourself feel good sometimes, too. You deserve it. Let Jack pamper you for a change, make him rub your feet and shit."

Ianto shook his head. "You're all romance."

Owen shrugged a shoulder. "What can I say? I'm gifted."

Owen moved to leave the kitchen but Ianto stopped him. "Hey, Owen?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for everything," Ianto said. "You've kept me from losing myself when I didn't think I had anything left."

Owen smiled softly. "My pleasure, mate. That's what friends are for."

Friday, the night of the date came, and Ianto was a nervous wreck, pacing the flat. Owen had left to give them some privacy, but the emptiness of the flat made him feel even more unnerved.

There was a knock at the door and Ianto stopped, mid-step. Licking his lips, he squared his shoulders and went to answer the door.

Jack was waiting on the other side with a big Harkness grin, and holding of all things, a bouquet of flowers.

Jack winked at him. "You look a bit flustered there, Ianto."

Ianto ran a hand through his hair and took a breath. "No, I'm fine."

Jack nodded to the door. "Can I come in, then?"

"Oh, sorry, please." Ianto stepped to the side and let Jack past.

Jack paused to lean into Ianto give him a peck on the cheek. "You look gorgeous, but then again, you always do."

Ianto blushed and stammered. "Umm, thank you. I'll just put those flowers in a vase."

Once the flowers were taken care of, Ianto grabbed his coat and Jack led him from the flat.

"I have reservations for us at that little Italian place down the street."

Ianto swallowed. He couldn't believe that he was really going through with it. Even before all this, he never thought that he would ever be going on a real date with Jack.

Dinner went better than Ianto imagined. The talked about work, about the team, even about rugby, which surprised Ianto; he didn't think Jack knew anything about sports. It was nice.

When they got back to the flat, they Ianto got two bottles of Owen's beer from the fridge and they both plonked down on the sofa, laughing.

"I would say tonight has been a success," Jack said, tipping back his beer.

Ianto smiled. "It has."

A silence followed that Ianto didn't know how to break. He knew what he wanted to say, to do, but he had no idea how to do it. Just coming out and saying, 'hey Jack, I'm ready to try touching you' didn't seem right, so he sat there in silence.

Ianto took another swig of beer and then rolled the bottle between his hands. "So …"

"Yep," Jack said, scratching his head.

"So, umm, I was thinking and I don't know if you want to, I mean, maybe you're not interested and then I guess it doesn't matter," Ianto rambled. "I just thought that maybe, you and I—"

Jack cleared his throat and smiled. "Are you trying to proposition me?"

Ianto blushed and looked away. 'Umm, maybe?"

"You don't need to, Ianto. You already have me. I want you, and only you, in whatever and any way you'll have me."

Jack leant over and traced his finger over the stubble of Ianto's chin, following the line of his jaw. Reaching up with his other hand, Jack cupped Ianto's neck and gently pulled him closer until their lips brushed against each other.

Ianto felt a pang of fear, and he nearly pulled away, but Jack rubbed his thumb over his cheek and whispered softly against his lips. "We can stop. We don't need to go any further."

Ianto shook his head, bringing a hand to rest on Jack's hip. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "No, I want this. I want you."

"Okay," Jack said, slowly bringing their lips together.

The kiss was soft and gentle. Jack let Ianto set the pace. Jack only made a move after Ianto made it first, one touch for one touch.

The hand on Ianto's neck began to trail down, coming to rest at the top button of his shirt. Ianto sucked in a breath. Jack had still not seen the scars on Ianto's back, and he didn't know what Jack would think of them when he saw them. He didn't think he could bear the rejection that would surely come.

"Relax, Ianto." Jack pressed his hand against Ianto's chest. "It's just me, no one else."

Ianto took a breath and tightened his grip on Jack's hip. "I know."

"We stop whenever you say, no questions asked."

"Before we …" Ianto paused, collecting his thoughts. "I mean, I need to show you something, before we go any further. I don't want you to be surprised."

Jack's brow tightened and he frowned. "What is it, Ianto?"

"Just trust me. You're going to want to see this first." Ianto let go of Jack and brought his both of hands up to his shirt and began to slowly undo each button. His hands shook as he worked, and he knew he was worrying Jack but he didn't stop.

By the last button Ianto's whole body was trembling. He stood up, and keeping his gaze on the floor, he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders. He tossed it onto the sofa and then, taking a deep breath, he peeled off the undershirt, letting it fall to the ground by his feet.

Jack looked at him, confusion coloring his features. "I don't understand, Ianto."

Ianto shook his head. "You will."

Clenching his fists tightly at his sides, he gave Jack one last look and turned around, exposing his scarred back to Jack for the first time.

Silence hung heavy in the air and Ianto could feel the tears in his eyes. He didn't need to turn around to know Jack was disgusted, so he just closed his eyes and waited.

The silence stretched on, and he found his old wounds aching again like they were only days old.

He heard Jack get up from the sofa and he swallowed hard, preparing himself for the blow to come. But it didn't. Instead, Jack's fingers reached out and brushed over his shoulder. The touch made Ianto flinch, no one other than Owen had touched him there. The scars had always been something Ianto was ashamed of. But Jack's touch wasn't like Owen's. Jack's was softer and lighter, just barely a feather touch over his skin.

Jack's fingers traced over the scars, caressing each and every one, like he was memorizing them with his touch.

"Beautiful," Jack said, leaning in. "Perfect." He pressed his lips to the scar below Ianto's neck. "Gorgeous." He kissed his way down Ianto's back, not missing a single scar, murmuring words of encouragement as he did.

The words sent a shiver through Ianto. He arched his back into Jack's touch, letting his head fall forward. Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist and pulled him flush to his chest. Jack continued to pepper kisses along the side of Ianto's neck and his shoulder. "I want you, Ianto. Any way I can have you. However you'll let me."

Ianto turned in his arms and faced Jack, taking in the look that was so far from disgusted, Jack was flushed, pupils dilated, and lips red from kissing his way up his back.

Ianto couldn't resist. He leaned in, pressing kisses along Jack's neck as his hands worked the buttons of Jack's shirt. Jack's hands slid down to rest just above the button to Ianto's trousers, his thumb rubbing gently on the line of hair there.

At first it felt good, but then the memories he hated came and invaded his mind. His chest went tight and Ianto froze. It was like the world stopped. Ianto's hands clenched into fists and his breathing became rapid. His mind began to flash back to the factory, to Gray, to the pain, and he suddenly couldn't breathe at all. He thought back to Owen's advice and he tried to focus on the room around him, tried to remember where he was, that he was with Jack and no one could hurt him. He licked his lips and looked around the room, making a mental list of all the items to distract him.

After a few moments, it began to work and his breathing started to slow.

Jack moved his hands back, removing all touch from Ianto. "It's all right. It's just me. I won't hurt you."

As the fear subsided, the embarrassment set in. Ianto blushed and looked away, hating that he had reacted the way he did.

"Look at me, Ianto." Jack said. "I'm right here."

Ianto nodded. "I'm okay now," he said. "I'm sorry about that. I don't know what happened."

Jack kept his distance as Ianto worked to calm himself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Ianto really didn't, but he knew he should, so he nodded. "It was like … for a second I could … I was back there, at the factory, with him …" he trailed off, gaze dropping to the floor, hoping Jack would be able to fill in the blanks himself.

Jack brought a hand up and cupped Ianto's face. "Ianto …"

"It's all right. It's in the past." Ianto leaned his head into Jack's hand and closed his eyes. "I'm just glad you're here. I want you to be here."

"Me too," Jack whispered.

 


End file.
